


I Promise That Nobody's Gonna Love You Like ME

by olincino, zooeyscigar



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Body Dysphoria, Body Shyness, Body Worship, Bottom!Flint, Drag Queens, Drag performances, Gay Bar, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Trans Male Character, all of this centered around John's chest, background jackanne, bordering on, established flintgates, established flinthamilton, even long after top surgery, james is so very poly, liberal use of dildos, lots of riding cock lbr, many sex scenes for all the ships, minor power dynamic, nonbinary!anne bonny, things this fic does not include are transphobia and fronthole sex, tho actually everyone is a vers, trans!john silver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-04-24 17:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 64,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19178095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olincino/pseuds/olincino, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zooeyscigar/pseuds/zooeyscigar
Summary: NB/Transdude John Silver recently moved to town and joined the drag troupe based out of the lesbian bar run by the inimitable Max.Then he met all the drag queens who performed at the gay bar down the street, and kinda fell in love.Twice.James Flint had a bar, a lovely partner, a long-time friend with benefits, and an appetite for a new pretty young man every so often. (Or more often than that)Then John Silver walked in and bought a drink, and the established order of things promptly fell apart.Or, the one wherein everyone's queer, poly, and dating James, and the only one with any sense is Thomas, of course.





	1. Friday, February 2nd

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has both embedded images and links to music offsite.  
> The images, created by Olincino, are slightly larger than can fit on a phone screen, but that's on purpose. please bear with us. We just want you to be able to see the smaller images within the big ones.  
> Oli would like to express gratitude to Farah for so many lovely Luke Arnold pics! Thanks! We appreciate it!
> 
> Regarding the music links: all the songs referenced in the story are compiled in a playlist on youtube, and each music link takes you to that individual track. You might want to rightclick on the link to open [the full playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu) in a separate tab so you can listen to each of the songs as you read their corresponding scenes in the fic. (this is definitely recommended for the drag performance sequences).
> 
> We hope you enjoy this epic, multimedia fic!  
> <3  
> ray (the writer) & Oli (the visual artist)

The crowd in the bar went wild as Jackie O-Face curtsied and picked up the dollar bills at her feet. She blew kisses to all her fans, and when one came his way, John ‘caught’ it and pressed it to his cheek. Coincidentally, there was already a big orange lipstick mark on said cheek, so it made a good effect. Jackie winked at him and nodded at the fistful of bills, at least four of which were John's.

He loved that number — Jackie did a very prim and very funny version of [Santa Baby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mk_GmhD053E&list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu&index=2&t=0s) during the holidays and she hadn't set it aside even after the new year because it was a crowd favorite at The Frigate.

Of course John had made sure he still had enough ones for the next, and last, number of the night: Tammy Gay Faker as a [Sugar Plum Fairy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-QAhsbQYmE&list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu&index=2).

The rhythmic intro started, and a very tall, very long-legged, _very_ busty ballerina trudged flat-footed out on stage to the beat. She nodded at the smattering of applause, then, when the bells started chiming, she attempted to go _en pointe_ . After a violent reaction, she went back on flat feet to tug at her incredibly fluffy pink tutu, pick a wedgie, adjust the stuffing in her very full bra, and adjust her ‘dance belt’ area. She frowned at the laughter from the audience and went to go back up _en pointe_ , which she actually looked good at when she succeeded.

She then started to raise her arms into the classic ballerina pose, but her very large bust got in the way. She stopped again, and reached into the front of her costume, pulling out a huge powder puff, multiple balled up gym socks, a jock strap, and several pairs of brightly colored lacy underwear. She tossed each of these dismissively off the stage, and some audience members scrambled for them. When she was finally ready once more, she hopped back on her tiptoes, right in time with a dramatic beat in the song. The audience clapped as she began dancing in a truly graceful manner.

_Had Thomas actually taken ballet lessons at some point?_

John had to admit Tammy was beautiful to watch, her motions fluid and elegant, and timed to the music. Even her high kicks looked sufficiently high and nimbly executed. The arabesques, pirouettes, and glissades, all perfectly in time, were delivered — and received — with delighted smiles, but everyone gasped when it looked as though the ballerina was going to try to do a leap on that tiny stage.

She stopped herself before falling off and curtsied, then continued on with the dance. By this time the comedy was over and the room quieted down as the audience seemed to be just as awed with the technical performance as John was. When the music sped up, the ballerina twirled her way around the stage for what seemed like forever, somehow managing to not fall off or get too dizzy. Then she executed a last little flourish, and the song ended.

The crowd went wild — clapping and whistling and shouting their approval. Immediately, she was trapped in a blizzard of one dollar bills. John thought of snowglobes and smiled broadly at his friend. She trained her shining smile on him for a moment and he applauded her, then threw his handful of dollars at the stage. Somehow she’d perfected the art of curtsying, blowing kisses, and picking up money all at once, all while still catching her breath.

It was no wonder Tammy was the last number of the evening; she always brought the house down. As the dancefloor filled and the DJ started up a song with a thumping baseline, John headed to the bar.

 

~~

 

“What’ll you have?”

John was so focused on the two burly men who had immediately taken over the dancefloor and were grinding on each other as if they needed relief that he didn't respond right away.

“Ma’am, what do you want?”

John turned, wondering if he was blocking someone’s way and saw the gruff ginger bartender looking directly at him.

_God dammit, not here too._

The man’s eyebrows raised high as if in surprise, but his tone didn’t shift as he quickly amended his statement. “Sir. What can I get you?”

John nodded, thankful that the guy didn’t make a big deal out of his mistake. He knew his long hair was doing him a disservice in the gender department, but he couldn’t bring himself to cut it. “Whiskey and soda, please.”

“What kind of whiskey? We have a few to choose from.” The bartender sounded impatient and made a sardonic sweeping motion past the entirely too large selection of whiskey bottles behind him.

Both the cockily raised eyebrow and the freckled forearm caught John's eye. Not to mention the fiery red hair and beard.

_Oh_ . _This one was gorgeous._

"Well whiskey is fine.”

The barman nodded and then looked over John’s right shoulder and held up two fingers, nodding again before going to grab a couple beers and mix John’s drink. He worked quickly, efficiently, and with a casual masculine grace that John couldn't look away from. His deft hands alone made John bite his lip.

_Oof..._

John was surprised —  and possibly flattered? — the dude had been proactive about getting his attention. Usually bartenders avoided people who weren’t outright staring them down, especially on nights like this. The place was packed, and had been all evening, but this guy seemed to be the only bartender, with one barback behind him and one server working the crowd.

John had been tapping his credit card on the bar to the rhythm of the song, however. Maybe he had annoyed the guy enough to want to get rid of him quickly.

That was probably it, because when the drink came, the bartender barely looked at him. He didn't say a word as he took John's card — still with his legal name on it, God dammit — and nodded in a bored way as John stammered something about leaving the tab open.

Cursing himself for such an unsuccessful interaction with such a hot guy, John headed to the edge of the dancefloor where his friends were gathering, post performance.

“He’s pretty,” John spoke into Jack’s ear. It was a lot harder to hear people near the speakers.

“Which one?” Jack quipped, surveying the scene, his eyeliner still making his eyes pop even without the false eyelashes.

“The bartender. Do you know him?”

Jack pulled his eyes away from a twunk who’d just stripped off his shirt — as if losing the mesh croptop would really cool him off any — and smile-frowned at John. “Flint? Yeah, he’s a dear. Part-owner of the ol’ Frigate. Known him for years.”

“He owns this place and he still tends bar on a Friday night?”

“Control freak, if you ask me. Though he’s right to be — no one in town can mix a drink as well as him.”

John hummed before taking the first sip of his own drink. _Oh._ Jack was right. Either the well whiskey was really good here, or this fellow Flint knew something John didn’t about making good highballs. Possibly both.

The next time he went to get a drink he figured he might as well take advantage of this Flint’s skill and ordered an Old Fashioned.

“Which tab? Silver?” Flint asked as he set the cocktail on the bar, and John blessed him and his whole family for not saying John’s birthname aloud.

He nodded, smiling wide, even though that was often his tell — the thing that caused people to shift their perception of his gender in the wrong direction. Well, mostly wrong.

The corner of Flint’s mouth twitched as he nodded back and went to ring up the second drink. John took that as a win.

His cocktail was also delicious. And quite strong.

John took a big sip to lower the level of liquid in the glass, making it safer to take onto the dance floor, and bopped his way over to Jack and the ‘gals’ — the other drag queens John had become friendly with recently, since he’d moved to town and started in the scene a couple months ago.

The drag king troupe he’d joined had recently started a night down at Max’s bar, The Middle Fingers, and on their first night, the queens from The Frigate had come over to watch. John had assumed that they would heckle and boo, but the gals seemed to understand that there was no competition in this scenario and had been their biggest cheerleaders — and tippers — the whole night, thank God.

Of course John's troupe had reciprocated immediately, flooding The Frigate with more afab folks on a drag night than they’d had since the night two bachelorette parties showed up almost simultaneously, looking for a thrill. At least that’s what Jack had said.

Nearly all of the John's drag troupe preferred women, so John’d had a hell of a time trying to convince any of them to come back to The Frigate again, unless it was to continue to support the gals in performance.

At least half of them had come tonight but they’d all left the moment Thomas’ performance was over. It made sense. He was the only one of them who would feel more comfortable in an all-male space than an all-female one. Though to be fair, _more_ was the operative word, there. A gay bar like this wasn’t quite John's scene, but being here was a part of his new endeavor to learn how to interact out in the world as a queer man who wanted to fuck men.

Also, he really liked the queens he’d met, and he would never say no to more queer friends of any stripe.

"You didn't happen to... _tell_ anyone, did you?" John mutter-yelled to Jack, who looked as if he wanted to join the dancing a few feet away, but wasn't willing to give up his position, leaning picturesquely against the wall.

"Hmm? Tell what, darling?" he drawled.

"Tell folks that aren't the gals about me. That I’m... you know."

Jack raised a rakish eyebrow. "I'm unclear what you're suggesting. You go by John and use he/him/his pronouns, yes?" John tilted his head equivocally but nodded nonetheless. "Then what else is there to tell, _mon cher?"_

"Did you... talk about me to him?"

"Who, love. Stop being so cryptic."

"The bartender! Flint!" The words landed right in the breakdown of the song when suddenly everything was much quieter, and John wanted to sink into the floor as a couple heads nearby turned. He didn't dare look over to the bar, though it seemed Jack did, and he patted John's shoulder encouragingly.

"Can't remember, darling. Might have mentioned. Why do you ask?"

"He's been good about pronouns and not deadnaming me. That doesn't seem necessary just because I'm in the neighboring drag troupe."

"Well maybe, just maybe, he sees you as — _gasp! —_ a man!" Jack put his hands to his cheeks like a scandalized housewife.

John slapped his shoulder. "Stop. You know how rarely that happens to me?"

"Honey, you've been on T for, what, a year?"

"Ish..."

"It shows. If you cut your hair you'd pass... And yes I know that's not your intention, that you're not trying to go from one end of a spectrum to the other, I'm just saying..."

John scrunched up his nose. "I dunno. Maybe. I'm just not used to it, I guess."

"It'll come. Look at Max."

"What about Max?" John said warily.

“The thing you know about Max because there's no way she wouldn't tell you when you're not only a kindred spirit but also clearly one of the inner circle — Oh _God_ don't _blush_..."

"Shut up, I haven’t been here that long." John bent his head shyly, a coy, girlish gesture he could never rid himself of, and touched his hot cheek with the ice-cold glass in his hand.

"Darling John. Everyone who meets you, loves you. You charm the pants off them, sometimes literally, I'm sure. And Max has taken a liking. Not, mind you, that that’s something you can or should exploit, so stop your scheming right now, but you can't tell me she hasn't shared with you her his-story."

John rolled his eyes at the pun and shrugged assent as he took a deep drink of his Old Fashioned.

Max had felt like a gift when he’d joined the troupe and become a regular at her bar. It had been deeply satisfying to have someone else in the scene to talk transition stuff with, even if they were going in opposite directions, and with somewhat different endgoals. He’d assumed that was why she tolerated his presence more than anything, but he’d take the affirmation that folks seemed to both like and accept him. It was hard to get used to but definitely welcome.

When he looked up at Jack again, the penny dropped. "You've changed the subject."

"Which one's that, then?" Jack's eye had been caught by the douchier of the two door men. The one who obviously spent time in the tanning beds as well as the gym and had a permanent sneer on his face. Speaking of men who didn’t let the fact that they had no earthly reason to be shirtless stop them...

Jack literally batted his eyelashes.

John rolled his eyes hard and tugged at Jack until his ear was close enough to murmur, “Flint. The subject is Flint the bartender being good at interacting with transdudes. Did you coach him?”

“Can’t a man be good at addressing people of his own community without a meddlesome queen being behind it all?”

“He _can,_ if he were the kind of gay man who actually thought a transman was part of his community, but those are rare as fuck.”

“Obviously not as rare as you think, my sweet. Now let me go make some bad decisions with that shirtless adonis over there.”

“You mean the douchiest douchecanoe to ever douche?”

“He’s not _that bad,_ Christ.”

“He’s bad. The other one is nice. Seems goofy, but nice.”

“Billy’s smarter than he looks. But Charles is a fucking _god_ in bed. Toodle-oo my darling!”

“Ja-ack!”

“Gossip with Thomas if you must. He knows everything there is to know. Ta-ta!”

John pouted and finished off his drink, then sidled up to Thomas, who had recently come out from the dressing room backstage, no longer in his tutu nor ‘In Face’. His eyes were still bright from the high of performing, and his more-than-usually swishy physicality proved that his drag persona hadn't fully dissipated yet.  

John had a feeling that at the moment Thomas might be easily persuaded to gossip, and he wasn't above taking advantage of that. “Can I buy you a drink, dear? I’ve got some questions.”

Thomas smiled charmingly at him. “Absolutely. _Anything_ for you, darling...”

An opening like that couldn't be ignored, no matter what John's agenda was for the conversation. Not from someone as lovely as Thomas Hamilton. " _Anything?_ Really?"

"Mm-hmm," Thomas looked John up and down as he hummed assent. It was the sort of assessment he'd never received so blatantly from a gay man, and he was very flattered but also suddenly shy.

And maybe a bit like he was barking up the wrong tree to ask this beautiful man about Flint.

No, he'd promised himself he'd follow through on his crushes in this new town and that bartender was the first person in a long time to hook his desire and pull, and he wasn't ready to let that fish go, no matter how many others were in the sea.

"Well, first I wanted to say congrats on an amazing performance, your form is magnificent."

"Thanks, sweetheart, but that's not why you're here." Thomas gestured to John's body.

He caught himself in the middle of shifting his weight from one foot to the other and chuckled warmly at Thomas. "Guilty as charged. I was hoping you could help me with some information, honestly."

"Information or gossip, my dear?" Thomas smirked, one eyebrow arched conspiratorially.

"Depends on how you answer, I feel," John countered with a sharp smile. "So it'll be your fault if we get naughty. "

"Oh Johnny boy, I'm certain you started out that way. Anything I might contribute would be like spitting into the ocean."

John laughed and couldn't help stepping closer to this charming man. "Then tell me everything you know about that bartender, Flint."

"Oh _honey_. Do you have about five hours to spare? That would be a very long tale."

"You know him well, I take it," John said, trying not to let his smile fade. He tamped down a rising tide of jealousy.

"You could say that," Thomas laughed. "We've been friends for more than twenty-five years. No one else knows him better, even his long-time partner."

"Oh." John's heart dropped into his gut.

_Never mind._

"You were hoping he was available, hmm?" Thomas' mouth twitched with amusement and John bristled, defensive.

"Maybe I like gingers."

"Honey, everyone wants a piece of that man, so I’ll let you in on a little secret: he has no qualms about giving people what they want."

"Really?" A tendril of hope wrapped around John's heart and started tugging it back into his chest. "You think there's a chance?"

"Sweetheart, you're the most precious snack to walk in these doors in months." Thomas touched John's shoulder in a way that activated every nerve ending in his entire arm. He shivered at the shock of it and Thomas' lips twitched. "If you want it, it'll happen."

“I want it,” John said without thinking.

Thomas’ grin was wicked. “Good. I’ll make sure you get it.”

When they’d parted, after exchanging numbers, John wasn’t quite sure what he’d confessed to wanting, exactly, but whatever it was, he was going to enjoy the fuck out of it.

 

~~

 

**Thomas H:** Hey there, Johnny boy.  
**Thomas H:** Would you like to come with me to The Frig on Monday night?  
**Thomas H:** James Flint will be tending bar and I would love to introduce you...

**John Silver:** Ooooh. Yes, please?  
**John Silver:** I can't think of a better companion for such an occasion.

**Thomas H:** There isn't one, darling. :*  
**Thomas H:** See you there at 9pm?

**John Silver:** With bells on. 😘

**Thomas H:** Perfect. Can't wait. Xoxo

 


	2. Monday, February 5th

Monday nights were the exact opposite of Fridays at The Frigate.

No music came through the speakers near the dancefloor, no dancing to speak of, actually — unless someone put one of the holy trinity on the jukebox: MJ, Madonna or Prince. Or Gaga, she was up there too.

Thomas had insisted they sit at the bar, which gave them a very good view of Flint as he worked. Possibly too good. John felt as though his cheeks were permanently warm watching the casual grace with which Flint poured drinks and joked with the patrons.

Which was weird to see, honestly. On drag nights and weekends Flint was businesslike, even gruff, as he worked fast to keep up with the crush of people at the bar. But Mondays were industry nights, it seemed — when both food and entertainment industry people had the night off and flooded the bar with camaraderie instead of the hookup culture that busy nights prioritized.

Maybe it was because most folks there were older and therefore had been around a while, but Flint seemed to be friendly with everyone, and John could see clearly for the first time that he truly had ownership in the bar — the way he carried himself, the way he tended to the bar itself: wiping down the wood, refilling garnish trays, washing glasses. He hosted people as if they were in his home. It was beautiful to watch, really.

Thomas caught him staring and chuckled softly. “Yeah, that’s how I fell for him, too.”

“Wait, what? Did you guys... _date?_ ” John had to pause his question until Flint had passed by them and ended up whispering the end of it.

Thomas just smiled, one eyebrow high. “Didn’t you know? I was his first ‘gay experience’.” The scarequotes were strongly implied in his voice.

“No?? How long did this ‘experience’ last, might I ask?”

“You well might. The man’s got stamina, I must admit...” Thomas bit his lip as Flint bent down to pull a couple ciders out of a cooler at the far end of the bar.

“That’s... not what I meant.” John was ready to rest his forehead on the bar, but he didn’t want Flint thinking he didn’t have respect for the cleanliness of the surface. Or that he was a lightweight, as the night was still young.

“We never really _dated,_ if that’s what you’re asking. We just fucked with some regularity through most of university. And after, honestly. He didn’t come out publicly until he and Gates... you know.”

On Friday, Thomas had mentioned something about Flint, whose first name was apparently James, and Hal Gates, the other owner of the bar, being in a longterm domestic partnership.

_It had to be a bad idea, pining for a married man, didn’t it?_

“Gates of course has that reputation,” Thomas went on. “It seems he ‘turned’ Billy the bouncer, as well.”

“But... He’s younger than me, isn’t he? How did—”

“Billy was of age, if that’s what you’re thinking...” Thomas took a sip of his Cape Cod through his tiny straw, looking very prim for a moment.

That had not been what John was thinking at all, but he wondered if Thomas meant for him to wonder... “No, I mean...wait. Gates goes outside of the relationship too? And that’s okay?”

“Oh you sweet summer child. Gays as desirable as those two don’t stay monogs for any man, even their Forever Lover. Not when they created the town’s epicenter of gay culture and work here, night after night. Can you imagine?”

John couldn’t, actually, not once he’d thought about it.

_Well that solved that problem, at least._

Now it was just a matter of getting Flint to notice him over any number of other beautiful boys in the vicinity at any given moment.

Boys who had the exact sort of package that Flint would be looking for, as well.

“Thomas, what am I doing here? This is hopeless.”

“Never, darling. Chin up,” Thomas murmured from the side of his mouth. Then he waved his nearly empty glass at Flint in a high-camp manner, and called, “Yoo-hoo!”

Flint winked at him before filling a highball glass with ice and selecting a bottle of Thomas’ preferred brand of vodka from the shelf behind him with only the barest glance over his shoulder.

To John’s utter embarrassment, Flint looked over while topping the glass with cranberry juice and caught him staring. But all Flint did was tilt his head at John’s drink and wait for a nod before grabbing a rocks glass and making another Old Fashioned for him.

When he brought both their drinks over they started to bicker about whose tab the round should go on, and Flint just waved the discussion away as if it bored him. John ducked his head in that coy gesture of his and murmured a quick ‘thank you’. Flint bent slightly as if trying to catch John’s words and ended up leaning on the bar with a beautiful half-smile playing about his lips.

“All right Thomas, time to come clean. How’d you convince the new boy to be your date tonight?” He turned to John and added, “If he’s trapped you in any way, blink twice and I’ll spirit you out the back when he goes to take a piss.”

John blinked at him. Then blinked again and saw Flint’s lip curl. Then he blinked three more times in a very ‘why are you wasting my time’ sort of way, and Flint looked down at the counter in front of him and either chuckled or cleared his throat. Either way, the amusement in the sound warmed John’s belly.

Flint turned back to Thomas and raised his eyebrows. “I should have known where his loyalties lay. You gals and the new troupe are already thick as thieves, it seems.”

“We’re mutually supportive, I’d say, though _John_ here is the only one who consistently bats for our team. Hence me giving him a warm welcome to family nights at the Frig.” Thomas’ hands did a little Vanna White flourish as if displaying the evening itself for their perusal.

Flint’s smile at Thomas was fond and long-suffering before he turned again to John. His voice seemed to hold real warmth as he said, “Well, John, it’ll be a pleasure to have you anytime.”

“Won’t it just.”

Flint shot what seemed to be a warning look at Thomas’ innuendo and tapped the bar near John’s drink — a clear signal he was about to leave them. “Excuse me. Lovely to meet you, John.”

“You too, James,” John managed to get out before he’d left.

Of course, then he remembered that Flint had never introduced himself, and Thomas hadn’t made a show of saying _his_ name, like he’d done John’s, so by rights he shouldn’t have known it. Unless he and Thomas had already been talking about James.

Which they had. They’d barely talked about anything else, to be honest.

This time he really almost pressed his forehead against the polished wood of the bar in front of him. Instead he rounded on Thomas, hissing, “What the actual fuck was that?”

“What was what?” Thomas was all innocence.

“Don’t play dumb; it doesn’t suit you. _‘Won’t it just’?_ ”

“Just planting the seed, darling. James just needs a little nudge these days and—”

“He was _not_ amused.”

“You got him to laugh. That’s a good sign.” Thomas stopped with the straw in his glass halfway to his mouth, adding, “And _you_ certainly weren't making any moves. The king of flirtation here couldn't do anything but _blink—_ ”

“Hey, come on, I—”

“John, you can make _Joji_ blush with your suggestive looks and innuendos. And then, when it matters most...” Thomas gave him a _look_.

John couldn't keep from bristling. “That's when it's hardest, because what I say _does_ matter.” Thomas was about to respond, but John cut off any attempt at advice, for God's sake. “I don’t want your _help_ on this, Thomas.” His words came out harsher than he’d meant, however. He backpedaled immediately. “I appreciate the enthusiasm and the wingmanship, but it just... I need to be able to...”

“You want to reel this one in on your own. To prove you can. I get it.” Thomas patted his arm and John cringed at how transparent he was.

“Not sure you do, but thanks.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, that was inconsiderate. I don’t know that need to prove that you’re a ‘real boy’, but I assure you, everyone already sees you as such.”

“Not _everyone._ That’s the problem.”

“Everyone _here_ does. But I thought you weren’t really wanting that, either? I’m sorry if I’m—”

“No, it’s fine. It’s complicated, I know. And I don’t really know how to explain it to folks that can’t feel it. But like, I know you have an urge to be seen as feminine, at least some of the time, right? Or is that not what drag is, for you?”

Thomas tilted his head. “That’s definitely part of it, but I’m not looking to be seen as an actual woman or anything. I want to portray the feminine in a way that imitates but also falls short of achieving it.”

“So you want the masculine to come through the feminine portrayal to show its imperfection.”

“Yes. Yes, that’s it.”

“I sort of want that — in reverse, of course — in everyday life, without the comic effect part, and with a nod to the fact that an imperfect masculinity is just as valid as any other.”

Thomas was nodding slowly. “It’s cousin to the way we do camp when not in drag — a femme boy is still a boy no matter what the hets say. Maybe not quite the same thing, nor, I think, with the same effect, but...”

“Similar reasons, yeah. But camp is hard for me because it’s trading on an acquired femininity, and I don’t feel like I’ve completely lost my original femininity to sufficiently pull it off. Can’t swing femming it up when I’m not masculine enough for it to feel like a performance, I guess. I’m happy to take part in camp with you and the gals, but more because it’s the lingua franca than for any other reason.”

“Not every gay man's femininity is performed, but I get what you mean about it being seen differently than an afab person's. Because, correct me if I'm wrong, but you're saying the feminine aspects you want to claim are already endemic to you, instead of being put on? Holdovers from your previous life? Like maybe a softness that goes with your hair.”

“Yeah...” John frowned at Thomas, slightly uncomfortable with how truly seen that statement had made him feel.

Thomas waved his bullseye away with a limp-wristed hand. “Jack and I had been arguing about why you kept it long. That theory I just floated was his. I hate to say I owe him a drink for being spot on.”

John chuckled but shifted on his stool. Perceptive fucker, that Jack.

A chorus of greetings at the other end of the bar saved him from having to respond, though, and John turned to see a kind-faced bear walk in and wave to the assembly, nodding to certain individuals and smiling to others.

Before John could ask about the man, Thomas was already waving him over with his most Southern Belle voice, “Yoo-hoo! Hal, dear! Come meet my new recruit.”

John rolled his eyes but smiled at Hal Gates as he lumbered over and extended a hand. “A pleasure, Mister...?”

“Silver. John Silver.” John smiled at the thrill of being called mister and heartily shook Gates’ hand. “I’m in the brother troupe to the one that performs here.”

“A pleasure,” Gates said returning John’s firm shake. He glanced at Thomas then back again. “You all are over at Max’s place? Getting good crowds?”

“When the gals show up for us, we do,” John said with a smile to Thomas.

Gates made an approving noise and grinned at Thomas, who inclined his head like royalty receiving applause.

“Actually, we’ve been doing all right,” John continued. “The young folks are interested in fucking with gender on so many levels these days, so our troupe is committed to gender play in every direction, and so far it’s been well received.”

“Interesting. I’ll have to look in next time.”

“Do. We’d love to have you.”

Gates nodded and rested his hand on the bar, an echo of Flint’s earlier gesture, and John scrambled to find a way to keep him another minute.

“Mr Gates, I’ve been wondering...” At a curiously arched eyebrow, John continued in his most charming, narrative voice. “Why is it you chose to name your bar a word that sounds as though you’re asking folks to fuck you?”

Both Thomas and Gates frowned and John faltered in his joking tone. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone so far at first meeting. Was it time to backpedal?

But then Flint, from halfway down the bar, laughed and said, “What, you mean ‘Frig Gates’? I’ve often wondered, myself. Do you not get it enough at home, darling?”

“Are you shitting me...” Gates’ laugh was a deep roll downhill that both increased volume and speed as it went.

Flint moved closer and they laughed together as Gates threw an arm around Flint’s shoulder and pressed his face to the side of Flint’s head. They were beautiful together. John’s stomach clenched.

“It’s not meant as a command, mind you. Though I wouldn’t blame you if you took it that way...” Flint’s smile was sly and suggestive as he glanced at John, who flushed hot and had to hold his breath as Flint turned his face to Gates’ and kissed him sweetly on the lips.

Gates made a pleased noise and extended what was probably intended to only be a peck. His hand was on the back of Flint’s neck, tucked under the tiny half-ponytail, fingers threaded through the short hairs that hung down, and the sight made John ache.

When they pulled apart, Flint’s cheeks were flushed pink and his smile at the room was apologetic but fond. John made himself look away before his chest hurt too much to breathe.

He took a gulp of his drink and concentrated on the burn of the whiskey as it slid like fire down his throat and warmed him. The alcohol loosened his hip joints and thigh muscles, so he excused himself and slid off his stool, tugging at Thomas’ sleeve to get him onto the dancefloor.

Of course, something slow like “[Blank Space](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-ORhEE9VVg&list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu&index=4&t=0s)” was playing, but somehow it worked perfectly for the level of inebriated they both were. The dance got really formal, like Thomas was doing some 18th Century steps or some shit, but bowing to each other and touching hands as they turned circles and whatnot really worked. Also it had the added bonus of amusing the hell out of them.

At some point, when they were doing the step-together-step-apart thing, Thomas murmured in John’s ear. “Jealous?”

As they pulled away, John shook his head ruefully, and waited until their heads were close again to respond with, “Envious. They seem so happy together.”

“It’s taken years for them to find their equilibrium, if that helps at all...”

“Is that what keeps you from getting jealous?”

“Ha! No. There's no point in jealousy. Also, James and I still manage to find each other when we need to.”

“Oh?” John felt his ears heat up and something dropped in his stomach, but he didn’t think it was from disappointment. Possibly the opposite. “Really?”

“I told you they were open...”

“Yeah, I just didn’t... Look. That’s kinda hot, okay? Leave me alone.”

Thomas chuckled, low and dirty. “You know, a lesser man would see that as an opening, pup.” As they came together one last time, Thomas sweetly kissed both of John’s cheeks and turned dismissively to go sit down again.

John took a moment to remember how to breathe before joining him.

“I’m sorry, Thomas. I didn’t mean to tease—”

“It’s fine, dear. Don’t worry about me. I know my role here.”

“I didn’t imagine it might feel like a demotion. If it hurts to play, I—”

“No, love. You’re a dear, but I don’t pine for anyone.” He gave John a genuine smile before continuing. “I could be tempted, perhaps, but not while your attention is elsewhere.”

And that was it. No hard feelings, an open but no-pressure invitation that John could file away and examine at some other time, and they were done. John offered to get the next round of drinks, and they went on to talk about other things, both of their gazes periodically snagged by Flint as he moved along the bar.

Near the end of the evening, John finally got up the courage to proffer the proposal that had been his excuse to come tonight in the first place.

He leaned forward and tried to catch Flint’s eye, mostly because he was feeling awkward about using his first name again, but there was nothing for it. Everyone was a bit faded by now and Flint wasn’t paying as close attention to his customers. “James?”

“John.” He sounded very businesslike as he stepped over to them, a too-serious frown on his face, as if it had been put on for the purpose of making him look more sober than he was.

“How would you feel about hosting a monthly joint drag event with both troupes here at The Frigate?”

A surprised eyebrow lifted and Flint regarded John with something close to suspicion. “Why not at Max’s?” John must have visibly deflated, because he quickly added, “I mean, I wouldn’t want her to think we were poaching her talent...”

“I was thinking more of trading off locations?”

“Ah. That... could work. Hon?” Flint turned to the corner of the bar where Gates was chatting with a small group of regulars. “Babe. _Hal!_ ” Gates finally turned to Flint, who motioned for him to join them.

Flint draped a possessive arm around Gates as he gestured to John. “This new friend of ours has an interesting proposition.”

“Does he, now?” Gates squinted from Flint to John and back as if trying to gauge something. “What sort of position? Uh... _prop_ -position.”

John quickly took the wheel and steered the conversation in a safe direction. “One where my troupe and Thomas’ troupe get to perform together and everyone profits equally.”

“Oh!” Gates didn’t sound like he was expecting business talk at all, but his confused frown at Thomas cleared almost immediately and he smiled wide at John. “I like that sort of proposition. Is that why I’m over here? To put my seal of approval on it?”

“Well, you banned me from booking acts, remember? So yes. A nod from you now was what I was hoping for. John, you can work out details with Max and Hal later, correct?”

“Absolutely. I was just canvassing interest, really. Glad to hear you’re both on board.”

“I can have a contract sketched out for you by Wednesday, John, if James reminds me in the morning.” Gates was collecting shot glasses from the drying rack near Flint’s hip and added, “What are we drinking?”

“Ah, I wasn’t planning on having a—”

John stopped cold because Flint had rested a hand over his. When he looked up at Flint’s face it glimmered with a sheepish and fond smile. “Let him toast the new endeavor. It’s sort of a tradition. Brings good luck to the union.”

John nodded and as Flint’s hand left him, a chill ran down his spine.

“Whiskey, Hal,” Thomas said heartily. Then softer, to John, “You can sip it...”

There was no way John was going to take any sips of a shot of whiskey that everyone was having in order to ‘seal’ the compact of their joint venture. He tried not to believe in things being emasculating, but that would have felt a bit weak, and possibly insulting.

Gates lined up the glasses and poured them with a bit of messy flair, then raised his voice — and his glass — high. Everyone grabbed their own as he began the toast. “To a Royal Union between our gals and Max’s men — _people._ May they play well together to full houses and much bounty for all.”

John nodded and smiled at Gates’ correction, then went to drink his shot. But apparently, the toast wasn’t finished. He held his glass aloft again as Gates continued.

“To a new weekly—”

“Uh, monthly,” Flint interjected.

“Monthly night at our lovely bar—”

“And Max’s...” Flint amended, with a scowl from Gates.

“And Max’s? So, what, every _other_ month? Hell, that’s...”

“We’ll figure it out later, dear. Depending on interest...” James murmured out the side of his mouth.

Gates sighed. “To a new monthly, or every-other-monthly — depending on Max’s whim, I suppose — night of revelry and song! Here here!”

“Here here,” echoed Thomas and John as they all clinked glasses, spilling a bit on the bar.

“May it be genderqueer as fuck, and bring you tons of success, lads,” Gates added before downing his shot.

John raised his glass to that sentiment and downed his own shot, barely managing not to cough as it went down hard and swift.

Flint’s shot seemed to have gone down hard as well, because he coughed before saying, “Genderqueer as fuck? Where did you hear such a phrase, my love?”

“Look, I can speak like a millennial when I’ve a mind to,” Gates said as he collected the glasses. He scowled as the rest of them laughed. “Oy, tell him I’m right, young one. You said your troupe gets into it somewhat, regarding gender, and I’m excited about that happening on our stage.”

“Young one?” John was delighted by Gates’ enthusiasm, but couldn’t help worrying at how nonplussed Flint seemed to be by the whole idea. “I’ll have you know I’m old enough to barely even be a millennial.”

“What now?” Flint looked askance at Thomas, who shrugged noncommittally.

“You’d know if you’d ever carded me, Mr Flint.” John couldn’t help the flirt in his voice. It was late and he’d had a few and Gates was _right there,_ so it couldn’t be seen as on the sly or anything.

Flint seemed wrong-footed, however, so it didn’t land that way. “You were with the gals. You came over from _Max’s._ She’s enough of a stickler that if she let you in, I knew we were safe serving you.”

“Fair. Would you like to guess, then?”

John couldn’t help grinning at both Flint’s and Gates’ faces. Neither of them seemed to think that was a good idea, but John hoped they were both drunk enough to try anyway.

“Twenty...”

As Gates trailed off he looked to Flint who shrugged and grimaced, then finished with, “Two?”

“Four?” Gates corrected when John’s smile grew wide. “Five? _Six??”_

“Surely not. Look at that baby face.” Flint’s hand flitted out toward John’ chin, but he didn’t touch. He didn’t come close, really, though John hoped the gesture meant that he would have liked to.

“Yeah. That stubble was peach fuzz not long ago. Which _should_ mean he’s not of age, if you ask me.” Gates squinted again at John, then let his eyes linger on Flint’s thick, red beard.

“Well, he’s not thirty, that we can agree on,” Flint said with finality.

“True. I’m not. I was thirty three years ago,” John said with a triumphant smile.

“Bull _shit!_ ” Gates exclaimed, slapping a hand on the bar. “Show!”

His other hand grabbed at the air and John reached for his wallet to pull out his ID.

“Well, blow me down!”

“Here, Popeye, lemme see.” Flint tugged Gates’ sleeve and squinted at the ID for a long moment, and even though John was sure he already knew the score, he still hoped Flint wasn’t looking at the gender marker on there.

Thankfully, when he raised his eyes to John’s, Flint only had that clever, gorgeous smile in them. “You’ll get carded until you’re fifty, pup.”

“Pup? What’s with that? Thomas, you did that too.” John’s question held a laugh, but it died when Flint and Thomas looked away from each other.

“It’s good, John. That’s all you need to know. It’s a good thing, from these two.” Gates gave him a soft smile and a subtle wink, which John interpreted as a hint to not ask further.

He pressed his lips together and told himself to let it go. There was something about the term that made him feel a little squiggly though, and he’d have to contemplate that more later.

“James, I believe we’ve lost the thread of conversation, and I’d hate for you to have missed it,” Thomas said, studiously avoiding eye contact with everyone. “But we were talking about gender performance and how John’s troupe does it.”

“Oh? Yes, I guess we were,” Flint said as he turned to look expectantly at John.

“Not much to say, really. We don’t all just dress up as men. There’s a lot of queering the whole idea of drag and burlesque, and it seems to be popular with the younger queer crowd, if you can stand to have them in here...”

“Why wouldn’t we?” James said without a hint of malice, just curiosity in his frown.

“I mean, I hate to break it to you fellas, but this place _reeks_ of Gay Men.”

That, at least, got him the chuckle he was hoping for.

“Yeah, well... we really needed that reek when we first started up this place. It was sadly lacking in town, if you can believe it.”

It was John’s turn to laugh, nodding that he could believe.

“Doesn’t mean we aren’t willing to change with the times a bit, welcome all the different parts of the — what is it — alphabet soup?” Gates looked to John for confirmation, who beamed at him, which seemed to make him blush.

“Hell,” he continued, warming to the subject, “Max used to come here back before—”

“Hush, love. That’s Max’s story to tell,” Flint murmured, his mouth moving toward Gates’ ear.

“It’s all right. John’s in. Max _adores_ him.” Thomas looked oddly proud as he grinned at John, whose cheeks flushed hot.

“Oh, really?” When Flint pulled away from Gates’ ear his eyes caught the light such that John realized for the first time they were green. For some reason the shock of it zinged through him, all the way down to his toes.

“So everyone keeps saying. She seems just sort of normally friendly to me...”

“Max is not friendly for no reason, darling. She’s ruthless and doesn’t waste her time, especially on pleasantries. She likes you. Trust me.” Thomas had rested a hand on John’s shoulder as he spoke and John leaned into its warmth.

“She _likes_ Anne. She tolerates me because I amuse her.”

“Anne’s the scary one?”

John tsked Thomas. “Anne is amazing and powerful and brings the fucking house down with their act. And yeah, they're also quiet and you never know just what they're thinking, which I will admit makes me nervous, but they're not scary.”

Everyone looked as though they were trying not to smile and it made John feel a bit defensive of his troupe member. “Look, any of your gals would be grateful to have Anne walk them to their cars while they were still In Face and you know it. Anne'd protect you better than I ever could.”

“Obviously,” Flint said with a gentle smirk. “Our John is a lover, not a fighter, eh?”

“Quite,” Thomas agreed, and though he looked as though he would continue, Gates beat him to it.

“That’s why we’ll keep him safe here with us. Right?” Gates looked directly at Flint, who smiled softly and nodded. Then Gates kissed him on the cheek and added, “Anyone need anything before I go take a piss?”

Thomas waved him off and he left for the back of the bar.

“He’s lovely, James,” John said into the conversational lull.

Flint nodded as he wiped down the bar. “I’m a lucky man.”

“For many reasons, Hal Gates being chief among them,” Thomas added.

“Are you really _thirty_ -three?” James asked, pausing his cleaning to lean on the bar.

“Just. My birthday was a few weeks ago.”

“When?” Thomas asked with much curiosity. Too much, John felt.

“Before Christmas.” John intentionally kept his response vague, even though Thomas was sure to forget by the time John’s 34th rolled around.

“Early December? Sagittarius?” Flint whistled at John’s nod.

“Oh! Speaking of holidays, what if the first joint event was for Valentine’s Day? Did you already have ideas for the show that week?”

Thomas’ face was suddenly blank. “I... don’t think so? Nothing special, at least. Most of the gals already have love song numbers, though some are thinking up holiday-specific ones, I believe. But there’s nothing we couldn’t put on the back burner or modify to work with your acts.”

“Perfect. James, do you think we could have the place that night, or do you have some sort of Valentine’s event already planned?”

“That’s Hal’s department, but we don’t do anything specific, usually. Red decorations, sappy playlist, themed cocktails for the specials list... But you should probably make the drag night that Friday. You’ll draw a bigger crowd.” At John’s grin he added, “Hal gets the final word on that, though, so don’t get all excited before you ask him.”

“Also... Max.” Thomas face and tone were cautious.

“Right... She might be upset if we abscond with a bunch of her paying customers that night.” John tapped his fingers on the bar while thinking. “What if we did a set at each location?”

“Brilliant. We can even go first, because that will open up the dancefloor later.” Flint looked actually sort of excited. Thomas seemed thoughtful, his eyes on Flint.

“Fire signs. They always burn brightly together.”

Flint and John both looked at him, then at each other.

“Ah. I’m an Aries,” Flint said by way of explanation.

“Also you’re 45, so...” Thomas huffed when neither of them understood. “The Chinese Zodiac is on a twelve year cycle. That means you are both...”

“Tiger,” they chorused.

“Of course you are. Well...” He downed the last of his drink and pushed it from him. “I should get going. James, my tab?”

Flint ducked his head and walked off to ring up the bill.

“You all right?” John murmured, fretful.

“I’m fine. Enjoy him. He’s a good time, I can vouch for that.”

John scoffed. “I’m not going home with him tonight, are you kidding? I doubt I’d be welcome—”

“Hal already gave the okay, obviously. If you want it, I’m pretty sure you just have to ask.”

“Maybe I changed my mind, did you ever think of that?”

“Honey, I can _see_ your _face._ What, you think I’ve been sitting here oblivious the past hour? Pshaw.”

“Am I... am I _that_ obvious?”

“You forget, I know his tells as well, pup.” Thomas pressed the tip of his finger to John’s nose. Somehow, from him, it was much more endearing than condescending.

John moved swiftly enough to land a kiss on that fingertip as Thomas was pulling it away. The gesture seemed to surprise and delight Thomas in equal measure. John’s face glowed with warmth in response.

They both startled when Flint set the bill on the bar between them.

John tried not to look guilty as Flint asked, “Shall I ring you up as well, John?” with a subtle tinge of ‘I assume you’re going home together’ in his voice.

Thomas pouted at John until he said, “I... think I’ll have one more before I go,” then he brightened right up and signed his bill and hugged John goodnight.

“I expect all the goss tomorrow, darling. _Au revoir!”_

And with Thomas’ exit, John was suddenly _very_ nervous.

Flint had stepped away to ring up another patron’s tab and John had nothing to do but fiddle with his empty glass until he came back, empty-handed.

“Did you drive here?”

“Scooted, but yeah.” When Flint frowned in confusion, John clarified, “I drove here on my scooter.”

“Right. Okay. Because as a responsible bar owner I _should_ give you a soda or a water...”

“You know, that’s a good idea. Water please.” Though the nerves had sobered him up some, John still wanted all his faculties for whatever came next. Which could easily end up taking himself home in a few minutes.

When Flint returned with a glass of water, he did his lean-against-the-bar thing. John looked around and noticed there were only a few patrons left, so maybe Flint didn’t have much choice of who to talk to.

“Is Gates...?”

“Went home. It’s past his bedtime.”

“Ah.” John drank his water self-consciously. Maybe Thomas was right about his chances tonight? Did he actually want to risk it though? He wasn’t sure he could handle a late-stage rejection if Flint ended up being transphobic at his core.

“So, when you do drag... what does it look like?”

_There it is._

John gave him a tired smile. “You mean, which direction do I go? Which gender do I dress up as?”

Flint shifted his feet. “No, just... what does it look like? You implied that your troupe were more queer than our queens, who I know are pretty traditional and all... I just haven’t seen you perform yet. Should I rescind the question? Have I offended?” He stood up straight as if readying himself to walk away.

“No, I’m sorry. You were asking in good faith, and I should be more understanding.”

“I’m not... Just because I’m an old queer doesn’t mean I don’t get it. At least somewhat. You don’t have to Gender Theory 101 me or anything...”

Flint looked near pouting, and John couldn’t help chuckling at his defensiveness. “Glad to know I can skip The Talk about how gender is a construct...”

“Go ahead and laugh, but I keep up. And I’m not _that_ much older than you.”

“Oh so you believe me now? It’s the trans fountain of youth, pal. Testosterone makes us all look like pubescent boys, which let’s be real, I’ll take any day over mature woman.”

“You don’t look that _young_ , either. You just...” He trailed off, looking thoughtfully at John, who tried not to fidget under his gaze. After a pause long enough to do horrendous things to John’s heartbeat, he added, “You just exude a certain enthusiasm and vitality, and you have this wide-openness about you. And obviously you’re just _beautiful._..”

John felt all the blood rush to his face, and he looked down at the bar, flustered.

“I meant, like, a masculine beauty. Shit. Did I... is that not okay to say? I’m sorry, John—”

“It’s fine.” He reached out to touch Flint’s hand on the bar but caught himself before he did. Instead he looked up at Flint’s face and smiled genuinely. “I wouldn’t mind if it was a feminine beauty, as long as you saw it on a masculine person, if that makes sense.”

“Oh... yeah.” Flint leaned his elbows on the bar and slowly took John’s hand in his. “That’s exactly what it is.”

Flint’s eyes were fixed on John’s hand as he began to stroke the back of it, and John’s focus was riveted to Flint’s face, which was bent so his eyes were hooded by his light eyelashes. The tops of his cheeks were dusted with pink and held more freckles than John could have guessed.

“It’s lovely. Not... put-on like Thomas’ campy queening, which I also adore and has its place, but.” He looked up with a wicked smile. “Dare I call you Ganymede?”

It took John a moment to find breath to answer. “Depends on if that’s a Shakespeare reference or a Greek Mythology one.”

“ _Touché._ I’m feeling more like Zeus than Orlando, to be honest...”

“Wanting to steal me off to Mount Olympus?”

“A little... Would you be open to that?” Flint said as he turned John’s hand over and stroked the palm gently enough to make him shiver.

John bit his lip to keep focus. “And what happens when we get there? Pardon me for needing specifics, but I want to make sure expectations can be met...”

Flint frowned as he bent down to press a soft kiss to John’s palm, then dragged his lips over the mount of venus. “Whatever you want.”

_God. That mouth._

“Well, my cock just happens to be in the seat compartment of my scooter, so...”

John was _not_ ready for the look on Flint’s face at that. He’d expected amusement, confusion, some sort of pause in the seduction, but this man...

The _hunger_ in his eyes. The sharp smile on his lips...

John was dizzy with the rush of want that surged through him.

“JA-AMES! You ginger wolf! Leave that boy alone and cash us out already!”

John let out a huff, then hissed, “Don’t you _dare_ leave me alone, I—”

James winced. “I’ll be _right back._ Don’t move.”

The small cluster of folks at the end of the bar were happily drunk and devoid of malice. One of them even blew John a kiss, as another called, ‘enjoy your night!” Flint worked quickly, good-naturedly taking a bit of a ribbing over his advances on ‘that pretty young thing’, which did give John pause as to how often this sort of thing happened at The Frig.

The last of the patrons left and Flint proceeded to close up.

“Hey, what about my bill?” John said as he moved down the bar to where Flint was working.

Flint waved the question away as he refilled a beer cooler.

“Okay, but just so you know, I’m not gonna go down on you because I drank for free tonight.”

“I should hope not. Only do that if you feel like it.” He stopped with a can of Carlsberg in each hand as he added, “Don’t feel any pressure to do anything, John. I won’t be upset if you want to leave. The drag night will still be a go, too, I’m not—”

“No, I know. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. But... how long will all this take?”

“Two minutes, tops. I swear it.”

John was certain that meant a least five if not ten minutes, so he fucked off to the jukebox and paged through the selections.

“Unplug that bad boy, will you?”

“In a minute, I wanna hear something first.”

Flint grunted but didn’t argue, so John picked a song and set it playing, then made his way to the dancefloor. It was the same [T. Swift song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-ORhEE9VVg&list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu&index=4&t=0s) from before — for some reason John couldn’t get it out of his head — and he entertained himself with trying to remember the steps that he and Thomas had made up earlier. It probably looked a little goofy, him alone on the dancefloor pacing through a partnered dance, but he didn’t care, and with Flint busy behind the bar, there was no one to watch him anyway.

 

~~

 

James couldn’t keep his eyes on his work for the life of him.

The prettiest young man he’d ever met was dancing alone in James’ darkened bar like nothing in the world mattered but his formal, graceful movements, and James’ chest ached at the beauty of it.

This was a bad idea, and he knew it, but at this point he was too smitten to care. Hal had given his blessing with that knowing smile that nearly always meant he smelled trouble, but he trusted James enough to figure things out, thank God.

Granted, James wasn’t quite sure he would make it very far, so maybe he wouldn’t even have a chance to fuck this up too much.

Hal and Billy had worked out for a time, though. They’d all weathered that particular storm of affection quite well, and John, though he didn’t look it, was older than Billy.

He needed to stop catastrophizing. It was because of the dumb pop song on the jukebox that he was thinking this way.

_Boys only want love if it’s torture._

Load of crap.

He did love the game, however, he had to admit that. The chase, the catch, the exploration... and John was proving to be highly intriguing so far.

He decided to give up closing for the night and do whatever was left undone in the morning. Sidling up to John on the dancefloor, James wanted so badly to embrace him, but opted for meeting the hand John held up in front of him and mirroring his steps. He’d watched Thomas with envy earlier and now he realized why — it was surprisingly intimate to step close and then apart, eyes locked together, palms pressed to each other’s.

When the song stopped rather abruptly, they were standing close, breath on each other’s cheeks, and James risked leaning in, slow and obvious, for a kiss.

John tilted his head up to meet James’ and the touch of his soft lips was warm and inviting. James didn’t press his luck, however, just let his mouth linger a bit, catching John’s breath, brushing their lips together again.

It was John who delicately touched James’ jaw with his fingertips and silently asked for more with his mouth. John opened up for him and met him with the tip of his tongue — a soft exploratory caress — and James responded with dips of his own tongue and snatches of teeth on full lips, which produced the sweetest moans. More like delighted sighs they were, and just as exciting as John’s hand cupping his nape.

James pulled John to him by the hips and grunted at the contact. He couldn’t feel John’s excitement but reminded himself that didn’t mean anything in this case. He felt incredible nevertheless.

“We should... not do this here... I want you... in my bed... Will you come over?” He spoke between kisses and nips to John’s ear and jaw and throat, trailing his way down to where neck met shoulder, and bit through the fabric hard enough to elicit a whine.

“If your bed is empty, yes. I’m not interested in sharing you tonight.”

“Separate bedroom,” James whispered into the hollow of John’s throat as he tried not to get hung up on the word ‘tonight’ in that statement. “Separate bath, too.”

He could feel John’s hum on his lips and tongue. Jesus Christ he really needed to stop before they didn’t make it home.

“Do you want to follow or leave your bike here?”

“Are you on the other side of town?”

“Six blocks away.”

John pulled away and frowned at him. “And you _drove?”_

“I had cases of liquor in the trunk, geez.”

The amused smirk on John’s face was worth the lack of lip contact. James kissed him quick one last time because his smile was so enticing, then laced their fingers together and tugged him out the door.

He had to let go to lock up, but John pressed against James’ back, so he survived.

_God, was he already addicted to John’s touch?_

It wasn’t like he was starved for affection. Though maybe John was, and that was what he was responding to.

“Lemme just...” John headed over to an electric blue vespa-looking moped that was the only other vehicle in the lot, and pulled a dark fabric bag out of the seat compartment. James leaned against the front bumper of his car and watched. John’s movements were quick and sure, hands large and strong. The wind had kicked up and ruffled his gorgeous hair, making him tuck it behind his ears — a graceful, automatic gesture that caused James to shiver in anticipation of getting his own hands in those curls.

John smiled wide and beautiful, unselfconscious and welcoming as he crossed the lot to James’ car. It nearly made James’ heart stop. There was something so sweet in seeing him open up like a flower to the warmth of James’ attention. Especially when he came right up to James and tilted his head up for a kiss. His lips were the only warm thing in the night and made James eager to get them both home.

“Get in,” he murmured into John’s hair as he swatted his ass.

John seemed to swallow a yelp of surprise, then said, “Wait, why aren’t we walking?”

“Because Hal needs the car in the morning and I’m an impatient asshole.”

The laugh that bubbled through the streetlamp-lit night pulled a smile out of one side of James’ mouth.

Once they were in the car, however, John seemed fidgety. James set his elbow on the armrest and held out his hand, which John took, loosely lacing their fingers together and rubbing his thumb against first the back of James’ hand, then his knuckles and on from there. By the time they were pulling into the driveway, John’s fingers had caressed every inch of James’ hand, and he was half hard with the thought of that touch anywhere — everywhere — else.

“God,” he breathed as he pulled his hand away to shift into park. “Where’d you learn to touch like that?”

“There’s such a thing as foreplay, James...” John teased with a smile. As they got out of the car, he continued. “Girls like a lighter touch, and are into having every erogenous zone on the body aroused. I’ve made lovers wet and ready for it, just from doing that.”

“Not surprised...” James mumbled as he let them in the back door and turned on the kitchen light. “So our room for the night is on this floor. Just don’t go upstairs; Papa Bear gets grumpy if his beauty sleep is interrupted.”

“Wouldn’t dream of waking _Papa Bear..._ ”

James winced at John’s chuckle as he spoke, but the hand that trailed over his shoulder blades seemed to signal more delight in the endearment than amusement at anyone’s expense.

“He’s okay with this?” John was looking around at everything but James.

“Yes. Absolutely. Was charmed when he met you.”

That got a half-smile, but not John’s eyes, and James suddenly needed them on him.

“Hey,” he said, catching John’s hand to get him to look him in the face. “What do you need? Can I get you anything to make you comfortable?” He was asking, ‘are you still okay with this?’ but wasn’t sure that was the right way to get an answer.

“I’m good, James.” He stepped closer, fingertips to James’ beard, and pressed his face to James’ neck. “Take me to bed already.”

“Yes sir.”

“Mmmm, I like that...” John said, mouth on James’ pulse point.

“Which part?” James whispered, breathless.

“The deference, the masculine title... what’s not to like?”

“Have you not been called ‘sir’ much? How long have you been going by John?”

“Two years? And I don’t tend to get ‘sirred’ much in bed.”

James hummed, hoping it would be heard as a promising, but not too promising sound. Letting John have control was one thing, proper subbing was something very different.

“Well, after you, sir.” He grabbed John’s hips and turned him around until they were back to front and James could brush John’s hair to one side and suck on his neck as he guided them to the guest room.

They tumbled through the doorway and John moaned as he landed with his hands flat on the bed. James bent over his back with an arm around his waist to hold them flush together. James’ cock, rock hard in his pants, had slotted into the cleft of John’s skinny jean-covered ass, and he couldn’t help seeking friction that way. John moaned again and pushed back against him, but only for a thrust or two.

“Hey, wait, I sort of have this rule for cisdudes.” John was breathless and was both pushing James away so he could stand and turn around, and pulling him close so they didn’t lose contact. His mouth was hot on James’ jaw and throat, teeth raking, tongue wet and wanting. James pulled an inch or two away to remind him to finish his statement. “Okay, so... I only let them enter me if I’ve entered them first.”

The potent flush of desire that spread across James’ skin was so hot it felt like embracing a fireball — a five foot six inch fireball, in fact —  and left a cold shiver in its wake.

It was not the reaction he'd expected.

He'd told himself he had no expectations for the night going into this, but he hadn’t thought to add bottoming to the list of possibilities. It wasn’t really something he did right off the bat. And yet here he was, wanting John in every other way he could have him, so why not that one as well?

He tried not to sound too eager asking, “Is that what you want? To enter—”

“I dunno, I dunno, I just needed you to know the rule.”

John kissed him again, the neediest of pups, and James took his time, letting himself want all the things in ways he normally wouldn’t.

“What other rules are there?” he asked when the kiss ended.

“My shirt stays on, no matter what. Neck, belly, arms are fine but chest is totally off limits. So is my front hole. That's non-negotiable. Not sure if you get my flesh dick at all tonight, or only the detachable one, we’ll see. Also don’t pin me down beneath you; I’ll fight to get out.”

James nodded against John’s hair. “Anything else?”

“No. You?”

“Don’t wake Hal, and if you stay for breakfast, get dressed first. But not in my clothes. That won’t end well for anyone.”

John stilled in James arms and he worried for a second he’d fucked up. “What?”

“That’s it?”

“Oh, and barriers. Maybe that’s obvious for you, but condoms, even for oral.”

“Yeah, yeah okay. You ever sucked a strap-on dick before?”

James flushed hot in the dimly lit room. “Yeah...”

“Oh, good. You wanna do that now?” John’s hand found its way into the hair at the back of James’ head and tugged just slightly. James let his head fall back and moaned assent as John mouthed at the base of his throat.

"Thank God," John murmured as he tugged a little harder and James dropped eagerly to his knees. This was something he never hesitated to give.

He pressed his face against John’s crotch and hummed in delight. John groaned and James mouthed against the soft bulge clothed in denim as he slid his hands up John's thighs, thumbs against the inseams, cupping and nuzzling and reaching for his belt—

“Whoa, boy. Steady.” John’s hips moved backward and James stopped what he was doing. “You wanna wait here on your knees until I get back? Or would you rather undress and be on the bed by then?”

James rubbed his face against Johns’ thigh for a moment. He was too old for kneeling that long unless he was actually subbing. “On the bed. But be quick.”

“I promise I have _zero_ desire to keep you waiting.” John pressed his lips to James’ hair and stepped out the door.

“Bathroom’s on the right...”

John made some noise of agreement and James heard the door close after him.

“Fuck,” he breathed into the empty room. He’d been ready to swallow down whatever John gave him. He still was, honestly, but now he had room to breathe and wonder what that might look like.

He stripped off his shoes and socks, shirt and pants, leaving them all in a pile to kick under the bed, and pulled off the duvet so they’d only dirty the more easily washable sheets.

By the time John returned, James had taken his ponytail out and was leaning against the headboard in just his boxer briefs, the top sheet of the bed pulled down invitingly.

The smile on John’s face at the sight awaiting him could only be called feral, and James’ cock twitched to see him advancing to the bed, his legs and feet bare, his cock bouncing under the hem of his shirt.

Jet black, a good length, not too thick, and life-like with a pretty head that James hoped fit snugly against the roof of his mouth. The shaft wouldn’t stretch his lips, but it was long enough to hit the back of his throat.

James’ mouth started to water.

John climbed onto the bed and up James’ body, and James reached for his hips as he straddled James’ thighs. The leather straps of the harness were still cool to the touch and ran over his full ass as well. John raised up slightly and James took it as an invitation to grab handfuls of his ass and squeeze. John moaned softly into his mouth, tongue seeking, lips caressing, breath hot and needy.

_God, he was perfect._

John’s hands were on James’ neck, the back of his head, in his hair, and it was James’ turn to moan softly at the tug. “How do you want me?”

A pause as John ran the pad of one finger over James’ lips. It tickled his mustache so he pressed his lips together for a moment. John’s eyes hungrily took this all in and they repeated their actions before he responded. “If we switch places, is that too much work for you?”

“I’m not _that_ old, pup.”

John shifted and ground down on James’ lap, giving him unexpected friction that drew a deep moan from him. “Heh. I _know._ I hear you’ve got _stamina._ I’m just asking...”

“Hear from whom?” James’ let his hands slide up to John’s waist and he wiggled slightly at the caress, giving James more distracting friction. “John..?”

John just _looked_ at him. “Who else but Thomas? I didn’t think he’d lie about being your lover. Do you have so many you can’t keep track?”

James scoffed. “Of course not. I just... didn’t expect him to brag about me.”

He and Thomas had been fucking for so long he didn’t think it would still be something worth mentioning. Unless Thomas was jealous of this new pup...

He’d have to check in tomorrow at some point.

“He likes you. Seems proud of you,” John said while running a finger over James’ clavicle.

“We sorta grew up together. I feel the same about him.”

John was watching James’ face closely, and mirrored the soft smile he was given. “Good. If this becomes A Thing, I want you to know that I’ll be mad if you stop fucking him.”

“I don’t...” James huffed. “One, we don’t do it _that_ often, and two, he’s been grandfathered in to every relationship I’ve ever had, so don’t worry.”

Had he really just talked about relationships as if whatever this was might become one? _Dammit._ He needed to slow down. Though, to be fair, John had started that train of thought...

“Where were we?” he said, his mouth headed for John’s throat.

A warm hand landed on his bare shoulder and pressed against his forward movement. “You're going to tell me how many lovers you have.”

A quick glance at John’s face confirmed that the request was serious. Not worryingly so, but things wouldn’t start up again until he knew.

James leaned back against the pillows. “Counting you, three.”

A frown, lips pouting, John searching his eyes for the truth. “Me, Thomas, and Gates.”

“Yes.”

“And in the past, say, six months, how many?”

James didn’t hesitate, he just raised his eyebrows and looked squarely at John, hiding nothing. “Not including Thomas and Hal, maybe three other flings. I've been tested since the last one though — negatives across the board.”

"Me too." John nodded, his frown turning thoughtful. Possibly confused. "Your friends at the bar made it sound like you were more...”

“I've slowed down a quite bit since Hal and Billy, my door man...”

“Yeah, but I thought that was a while ago?”

_How did John know...? Oh, Thomas. Of course._

“Started maybe two years ago, but it ended last summer. Before then I was a little more... I got around a bit. I think my friends tonight thought I was back to my old tricks.” He tried for a self-deprecating smile, though he wasn’t sure if he’d reached the target because John’s frown was stuck in place.

 _Shit._ “What is it?”

“I... didn’t think this was a big deal. I know I’m an odd choice and figured you were just looking for something different...”

“What? You thought I needed a change from a steady diet of a cistwink a week so I chose you this time? Jesus, John.”

“Well? You’re a stone cold fox, James. And your pickup game is strong. That kissing my palm thing? God, I got so hard.”

"Me too." James canted his hips slightly so John could feel the truth, then ran his hands over the front of John’s hips until his thumbs were settled along the vee of the leather holding his cock. John bit his lips so invitingly that James wanted to taste them again — that plump, slick, cherry-red flesh.

He leaned up, inviting a kiss, and John cradled his head and took a deep drink from his mouth. When they separated, John still had James’ bottom lip between his teeth, sucking and pulling, and God, did that spike of pleasure go straight to James’ cock.

When John finally freed him and he could speak, James said, “Fuck, John. I haven’t wanted anyone this bad in a long time. But you... Christ, you’re the most beautiful, perfect thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Lies, but good ones. I’ll let you suck me for saying that.” John’s smile was arch and didn’t fit right on his face. It was slipping on one side and looked sad.

“I mean it. Has no one told you that you, John Silver, are fucking gorgeous and desirable?” John chuckled — not quite amused, possibly uncomfortable. “I’ll stop if you don’t want to hear this, but fuck me, John. I can’t believe my luck that you’re here in my bed right now. When I saw you flirting with Thomas tonight my heart sank. I was sure that he’d gotten to you first.”

“Well, you _are_ a lucky bastard, aren’t you?” John’s face looked calmer and more himself now, and he placed a sweet kiss between James’ eyes. “Come on, baby, show me how grateful you are to have me.”

James wrapped an arm around John’s waist and rolled them both over until John was on his back, propped against the pillows, his legs spread to fit James’ torso between them. James kissed John’s lips, then his ear and neck, a nip to his shoulder, then nuzzled his belly and hip until he bucked under the pleasure, nudging his cock closer to James’ mouth.

“Patience, pup.”

“I’m not your pup until I know what it means.”

“Later, I’m busy...” James was exploring the harness and base of John’s cock. The leather was studded with silver to hold the o-ring in place. It smelled warm and held an animal pleasure for James, the straps across John’s skin making him look virile and ready for sport. James growled hungrily.

But first he grabbed a condom.

John made a surprised noise, and James mumbled, “This is a dealbreaker, remember?”

“Yeah, but for silicone?”

“It’s still your fucking cock, and this is still oral sex. Besides, if you want to fuck me after, you're already covered.”

A soft noise of agreement was muffled by the tear of the condom pack, and James’ first touch of John’s cock was the slow stroke of sliding the condom down to its base. Not much give, but a nice, tight handful.

John sighed. James’ mouth watered all over again.

He paused before diving in, however. “Tips for giving you the most pleasure?”

“Don’t be gentle. Rocking the base a bit makes the straps move just right. Mostly I’ll enjoy the view.”

“Can I explore the area a bit with my hands or just my mouth?”

“I’ll put your fingers where I want them, if it comes to that.”

James nodded and John’s hand slid into his hair as he bent over and re-acquainted himself with the taste of latex.

John hummed and shifted a bit, put a hand behind his head, seemingly ready for a good show. James had forgotten that this would be a mostly visual experience for John, but he didn’t pause to let himself overthink it now. He’d done this for Hal before when he couldn’t get it up, so it wasn’t like he was brand new at it.

He loved sucking cock, so it wasn't really for show that he took most of John's shaft on the first try, nor were the enthusiastic noises he made play-acting of any sort. Mouthing at the head was a treat, so it was a bonus when John praised him for it, petting his hair and grabbing a thick handful to gently guide him down again. _That_ was a particular favorite, and he hummed loudly around John's cock in appreciation, which rewarded him with a small gasp and a low, “do that again.”

James backed off, steadied himself, moved the base of the cock and the harness half an inch lower, and touched John's wrist to remind him he was the one in control, then waited. John slowly pressed James’ head down to take nearly all of him, and James moaned loudly. The vibrations seemed to be hitting just right because John shivered and whined low in the back of his throat, holding James down until he ran out of breath and only letting him up so he could take another one. Then back down until he ran out again. Then down again, but so far that he choked.

“Too much? I could resort to a vibrator, but you're better...”

James gasped for air and shook his head. “Catch my breath...”

“God, you’re amazing. You love this cock, don’t you? I thought about bringing a thicker one, but I didn’t want to presume...”

James whined but the sound came out broken because his throat was raw.

“It was sheer optimism and a boy scouty sort of ‘always be prepared’ that made me even bring one in the first place. Didn’t really think you’d be interested, like, _at all,_ and here you are letting me choke you with my dick. Fuck, you’re beautiful like this.”

John’s hand in his hair compelled him up the bed for a heated, sloppy kiss, and James revelled in knowing he’d been able to turn John on that much already.

When they came up for air, he cupped John's jaw, thumb brushing his bottom lip. God he was so fucking gorgeous, breath heavy, eyes wide and dark, hair splayed across the pillow.

James didn't tend to use the word ‘need’ with regard to his sexual appetites. ‘Desire’ was more accurate and less dangerous. But this boy...

James _needed._

He wasn't even sure _what_ he needed, but the ache of it was devastating.

“More?” he asked, trying to keep himself from pleading.

John’s smile was equal parts generous and greedy. James was more than willing to give him whatever he wanted.

And obviously, he wanted his cock down James’ throat. The next time James’ breath was cut off by it, John’s hand strayed to James’ adam’s apple, most likely in order to feel it dip to accommodate his length.

His nose was filled with the scents of arousal and leather, his eyes watered, and his throat was raw enough to leave him hoarse.

If James had had any breath he would have purred.

Everything about this sex act had always gotten him hot. He prided himself on how good he was at it, and after thirty years he knew the general rhythm and pacing of getting someone off, but after a very pleasurable few minutes getting intimately acquainted with John’s cock, he remembered that this time they weren’t necessarily headed towards climax. Not if their focus didn’t shift somewhat.

His hand, resting on the harness, tightened and jostled it a bit, which received a moan and a shift of John’s hips. James’ thumb strayed below the base of the cock and pressed, which got another, deeper moan and another shift, this time complete with John grabbing his forearm.

“No entering there, remember?”

James let John’s cock slip out of his mouth and nuzzled it as he said, “Not trying to. Just thought a bit of pressure might...” He pressed again and John’s hips twitched with a gasp.

John grunted in what sounded like grudging approval and let go of James’ arm. James kept his thumb in place against the harness strap, pressing just enough to give John friction as he went back to sucking and tugging a bit on the cock. John’s moans blurred into a constant sound and his hips rocked more and more, so when James deep-throated him and moaned around the cock, John strangled a whimper and fisted James’ hair tight enough to hurt.

A hand grabbed James’ and maneuvered his thumb until it was rocking against the under part of John's pelvic bone. It gave James more control and John more pleasure, if the now constant grip of James’ hair was anything to go by. James gave up sucking and licked and lipped just under the head of John's cock, giving a good show while paying attention to the spot John seemed to need pleasure most. It did the trick.

John's moans grew sharp and quick, and he rocked hard against James’ hand, and James forgot about the dick in order to watch his face. John was lost in pleasure but his brow was so furrowed, eyes shut so tight, that he might also have been in pain. James couldn't tell if something was wrong or if John was just frustrated at chasing the pleasure that would finally tip him over into climax. He knew better than to change up what he was doing at this stage, and soon he was rewarded with a grunt and a soft, “Fuck. Fuck. God, I'm close.”

John shifted and grabbed James’ arm, again to direct him better. With an impatient grunt, John nudged the leather strap out of the way and pressed the pad of James’ thumb against the slick head of his flesh cock, showing him how to gently rub just the underside of the tip until he shuddered. New sensations, same purpose. James could work with this.

“That. Right there, like that. Fuck.”

John's face still looked pained but he moaned, loud and wantonly, and James smiled as he nibbled the underside of the head of John's silicone dick while keeping his thumb moving exactly how John had showed him on his flesh cock.

The sight and feeling together seemed to work wonders, as John, panting and heavy-lidded, clutched James’ hair and groaned, grinding his hips against James’ hand. Finally his breath hitched and stopped, his back arched and he shook hard against James, who didn't stop his movements until after John had cried out and then gasped for breath, collapsing onto the mattress.

“Ffffffuck.”

“Yeah?” James said with a triumphant smile as he kissed his way up John's hips and belly.

“Jesus. Yeah. My teeth are vibrating.”

“I'll take that as a good thing.”

“You should. Christ, you're good.” John chuckled, possibly a bit at himself, and wiped his eyes. “I'll admit I wasn't expecting that from you.”

“You didn't think I, a queer man, knew how to suck cock?”

“Not mine. Not like that.” John panted, gaze pinned on the ceiling.

“Well, I'd been thinking about it for a while, soooo...”

John propped his arm behind his head again to look James in the eye. “Oh really? Planning your strategy?”

“No, just... wanting. From the first moment I met you. Wanted you from then.”

Still catching his breath, John searched James’ face. “But then you learned I was trans.”

“There was no ‘but’ involved. Jack had called you John and used ‘he’ for you and that was it. So your credit card had a different name and your license had the wrong gender marker.” He shrugged. “Didn't change the fact that I wanted you and proceeded to check in with Hal about this.”

John sat up abruptly and scooted back and James realized he'd been resting much of his weight on John.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pin you—”

“What? No, it's fine. I just need to...” He deftly gathered his hair into a high bun and wrapped it with a tie from around his wrist.

_Christ._

The whispy curls at John’s bared nape made the latent desire in James spike sharply enough to hurt. “Did you want to fuck me, or were you not done with my mouth...?”

“l want you to stop saying all the right things, acting like you've only ever seen me as a man, when the first time you met me you misgendered me.”

James stared.

John was angry.

He wasn't good at being angry, though; he was fidgety and couldn't hold it in his body as a place of truth to draw strength from. It was possible he was angry at himself for getting angry, but he had every right to own it at the moment.

“I admit I saw your hair and made an assumption, yes. And I've been kicking myself for that. But the second I first saw your face—”

“I'd been to The Frig a couple times by then. Jack said he'd already mentioned me.”

“All right, yes, he had. Said you were gorgeous, but he didn't say anything about your hair. And I knew there was a curly-haired person in your troupe because you all came in to support the gals, but I didn't know that person was John Silver. Not until I saw your eyes. Jack didn't fail to mention your eyes.”

John squinted at him, as if to minimize the access James could have to those eyes at the moment. “So... you’re not transphobic, just slow?”

“I...” James sighed, but he knew it was a fair assessment. “Yeah, I guess. I assumed that a long-haired person who came in with a bunch of women was a woman, from behind, when all I could see was their hair. And I’m sorry.”

“Not all of the folks in the troupe are women. Some are non-binary.”

James raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh? Okay. Will you let me know which ones so I don’t fuck up with them as well?”

“Well, I mean, Anne uses They/Them pronouns, but also me. I don’t fully identify as a man.” John’s eyes were on his knees, which he’d pulled up to his chest. “Is that a problem?” He glanced up at James and it felt like half-challenge, half-apology.

James swallowed. “Oh, I... I dunno. Is it?”

“Depends on if you were expecting to be with a _man_ , I guess.”

“I just wanna be with _you._ And I wanna do it right, so if there’s stuff I need to know about how to not fuck things up, then...” He wanted to touch John at that moment, but was unsure if it would be welcome.

He settled for shifting to his knees and reaching out his hand, palm up, resting on the mattress. John brushed his fingertips over the center of James’ palm, once, then pulled them away.

“Just don't go assuming stuff. And take what I tell you seriously.”

“Of course?”

“You’d be surprised...” John pulled a wry face and touched each of his fingertips to one of James’.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” James said, ducking to try to catch John's eye. “But listen, pup. Just because I’m an old dog doesn’t mean I can’t be taught new tricks.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” John’s smile was both grateful and mischievous. The combination looked good on him. “But for God’s sake, this fucking _pup_ business. Come on. Spill.”

James shrugged. “I dunno, it just fits you.”

“Bullshit. I know both you and Thomas mean something by it.”

“I dunno.” James shifted to get comfortable sitting on his heels as he cast his mind back to his college years. “It started a long time ago, I don’t even remember why or how. We just used it to refer to pretty boys we were interested in, like, ‘Have you seen that pup I was dancing with? I think I’ll take him home tonight.’ But at some point it became a term of endearment said _to_ the pretty young things we flirted with.”

“So, when you said it to me at The Frig tonight... were you trying to tell him you were interested in me?”

“Thomas? Not really.” One of John’s eyebrows hopped up high and James shrugged, figuring he might as well come clean. “He already knew I was interested.”

“How?”

“Well,” James winced. “After seeing you on Friday, I asked him to bring you to the bar tonight.”

With a laugh, John let go of his knees and leaned forward. “So did I.”

James’ stomach flipped. _Thank God._

He'd felt a little bad at having orchestrated a second meeting with John, given how pushy Thomas could be under the guise of encouragement, especially with younger men. He liked playing Yenta a little too much sometimes.

But it seemed John had wanted this just as bad. James could have kissed him.

So he did. He leaned in for a soft press of warm red lips before murmuring, “I'm guessing that was as clear a sign as he was likely to get, then.”

“Thing is...” John’s voice went singsongy as he pulled away to look at James coyly. “He's definitely the most attractive queen in the troupe, and before I saw you, I'd been thinking...”

James smirked, one eyebrow creeping up. “I won't stop you. He's a fantastic lover.”

“Do you two have _any_ jealousy at _all_ between you?”

Letting himself smile at John's incredulity, James answered, “Maybe not none at all, but it hasn't been an issue between us for a long time.”

“Have you two ever fucked the same guy?”

“Sure,” James said with a smirk. “Back in the day we used to trade lovers often. Sometimes we'd share.”

John hummed, apparently enjoying the image that sprung to mind. “Is that something that happens frequently? I’m not... I’m just asking. I haven’t known many poly folks so I’m unsure how it all works.”

“Not really. It depends. FYI, Hal will never want to share you. That’s a boundary we’ve set. We have our own dalliances outside the relationship, and they stay separate from our sex life as a couple. Thomas, however... you’ll have to ask him if he’s interested.”

“I didn't say I..." John flushed. It was fucking adorable to see him flustered like this and James refused to feel bad about it.

“No, you didn't. Besides, I'd rather focus on having you all to myself tonight...”

“Yeah, about that...” John leered. There was no other word for it. He reached out a hand and cupped James’ jaw, massaging it with his thumb. When James let go of the tension there, his lips parted and John slid his thick thumb inside.

The taste and feel of actual flesh in James’ mouth was a welcome change from latex on silicone, and he sucked and stroked with his tongue and let his teeth drag gently over the pad of John’s thumb. His skin was a little bitter, a little salty, and James could feel the ridges of the thumbprint on his tastebuds. The hardness of the nail under his front teeth felt satisfying, too. Like he could keep the digit in his mouth as long as he wanted.  
  
But then John bent his thumb around James’ bottom teeth, clutching his jawbone between thumb inside and fingers outside, and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. “I want my cock so deep in your ass you can taste it.”

 _Need_ punched James in the gut so hard he grunted. He tried to nod but John was still holding him in place. He couldn’t speak around the thumb in his mouth, either. All he could do was whimper.

John chuckled, low and dark. Seductive. “That’s right.” He nipped at James’ earlobe then pulled away, sliding his thumb abruptly out of James’ mouth. James missed it immediately and snapped his teeth at it as John’s hand moved away.

“Behave, kitten.”

James growled. “Don’t you dare.”

John laughed aloud as he advanced on James, pushing him backwards to lie down. “If I’m a pup, you’re a kitten. It’s only fair.”

Wincing, James shrugged. He’d set himself up for that one, but no one before had taken the bait. To be fair, none of his casual flings had ever been as old as John, and they usually let James take the lead. It was enjoyable that way, but the novelty of tonight was far more intriguing.

“Just not at The Frig.”

“Also fair.” John said pleasantly as he climbed on top of James and nuzzled his neck. Then his voice went low again. “How much prep do you need, kitten?”

James rolled his eyes and groaned and John chuckled against his collarbone.

Trying to wrestle a bit of control back, James replied dismissively. “This isn't my first rodeo, pup. And no offense to your pretty cock, but Hal is _thick._ I can take you.”

“Quick and dirty, then? I'm down...”

_Oh._

This one wasn't giving up control any time soon. It both rankled and aroused James in equal measure.

“Just use something...” James muttered as he reached out and rifled through the bedside table drawer for the thickest lube they had.

He pressed the tub into John's hand as they kissed ravenously. It felt like something in John had gone feral, and, had he not been fucked open that very morning, James might have worried that John seemed to be too impatient. As it was, James didn't need him to. A little bit of pain was delicious sometimes.

His mouth sliding everywhere on James’ skin, John hastily stripped James’ underwear off, scooped a good amount of the gel lube out with his fingers, spread it generously over his cock, then lined it up with James’ hole and pushed the head right in. The abruptness and intensity of sensation caught up to James and dizzied him. His insides blossomed with a heat that seared him to his skin. Everything was alight with sudden arousal and he moaned despite himself.

“That's it, what a good kitten you are. Purr for me when you're ready for more.”

John's voice was low and dark, amused but generous, and James nodded dutifully, wondering if John was aiming for a serious power dynamic or just wanted control. James didn’t blame him for wanting the upper hand in the situation, though he wasn’t feeling ready to let go completely.

John rocked very slightly inside James, making a delighted noise at how accommodating his hole was. But then he paused, waiting for James to give permission to go on.

_Oh. Yes, good._

This pup wasn't too impatient, he was just playing the part. And playing it very well.

That pause was all it took for James to trust John enough to let him have control.

And God, was he glad he did.


	3. Tuesday, February 6th

“Okay but it’s totally happening. Gates told me he’d have a contract for us tomorrow. Max gave her okay too, right?” John stirred his drink and looked warningly at Jack. It had been his job to talk with Max, just as it had been John’s to talk to Flint.

Jack shrugged, eyes on the bar across the room. “Max did that very French thing of making a face and also sort of halfway nodding like maybe she’ll go along with your plan if she feels like it.”

“But that means we’re good, right?”

“Of course.”

Opening the conversation up to the whole table, John asked, “So... What fabulous shit are we all gonna pull off for Valentine’s weekend, folks?”

His bright grin faltered as everyone, from both troupes, stared blankly at him.

“Come on, a joint show will be _fun_. Let’s make it a wild time for everyone,” Thomas drawled. John shot him a grateful look.

“How about 69 Love Songs?” Eleanor offered.

John was about to enthusiastically support the notion, if only because someone had actually come up with something, when Idelle piped up, brow furrowed. “Didn’t we do that just a couple years ago?”

“Yeah, but I miss doing ‘I Think I Need A New Heart’.” Eleanor shrugged. Anne’s lip curled, but John couldn’t tell if it was in humor or disgust.

“What about break up songs?” Logan suggested.

Gus scoffed. “You are such a bitter queen, darling.”

“What if...” John said before an idea had fully formed. He looked at Thomas’ kind face, full of curiosity, and he blurted out, “Duets! What if every number of the night was a duet? So many classic love songs are sung by two people, and we could make it so each number was performed by a pair with—”

“With one person from each troupe,” Thomas interrupted, finishing John’s thought. He slapped his hand on the edge of the table. “I love it.”

“Oooh, yes please!” Idelle wiggled excitedly.

Charlotte frowned, thoughtful. “How do we choose pairings?”

“I call dibs on Joji,” Eleanor said without preamble. Joji looked up from his drink, eyebrows high, but shrugged in an accepting way.

John shot a panicked look at Jack, hoping to keep things from devolving into a mad dash for partners. Jack muttered, “Draw straws or something?” in a way that had John wondering if he had someone he was hoping to get paired with.

“Or write down who you want to work with and we’ll pair people up by actual preference,” John offered quickly.

Anne grunted. “What if we don’t have the same preferences?”

“Write down first, second, and third choices?” Thomas proposed.

“Done.” Jack declared, tearing up a piece of paper from the notebook he was supposed to keep meeting minutes in.

“What about choosing what numbers to do? Are we gonna pick songs like this too?” Idelle asked, biting her thumbnail.

John sighed. “You and your partner will have to figure that out on your own.”

“John and I will pair you up according to your wishes, and then we’ll all get in touch with our partners and brainstorm. Next meeting, each pair will tell the group what songs we’ve decided on,” Jack soothed as he handed out strips of paper and pens.

Everyone murmured agreement and bent their heads to writing.

“Don’t forget to sign your name so we know who wants whom,” Thomas said with a lilt to his voice.

“Wants _to work with_ whom,” John corrected, trying to cover his amusement with a frown.

“That too,” Thomas said, his voice queeny as fuck.

Jack snorted and John huffed a laugh. Idelle and Eleanor giggled but Anne let out what sounded like a low growl. John would have put a hand on their shoulder but he doubted that would have pacified them — most likely the opposite.

As people finished their notes and the table emptied, Jack stared thoughtfully toward the bar again. John had just said his goodbyes to those who were leaving when Jack, a single eyebrow raised high, leaned toward John and asked, “By the way, did anything come of that whole Flint situation you were having?”

“I wasn’t having a _situation,_ ” John parried, his face flushing hot. “I just wanted to... learn... some things.”

“Mhm... Well, whatever you wanted to call it Friday night, there’s a situation now, I’ll bet money on it.”

“Depends on your definition of ‘situation’.” John knew he sounded defensive, but he couldn’t help it.

Jack let his voice get just loud enough for the last couple stragglers at the table to hear. “A _situation_ is when someone wants to fuck someone else. Whether the feeling is requited or not is irrelevant. Do you want to fuck our man Flint?”

“Why do you ask?” John said, trying to play innocent.

Jack finally tore his eyes away from the bar and looked directly at John. “Because he obviously wants to fuck you, my dear.”

Neck and face hot all the way to his ears, John lowered his head and his voice, even though he knew at least Thomas and Anne could still listen in. “Okay but is it still a situation if you’ve _already_ fucked them?”

A soft noise came from one of the onlookers and John couldn’t help glancing over at Thomas, who caught his eye with a smug grin on his handsome face.

“Do you _still_ want to fuck him?” Jack queried. John nodded. “Then yes. The situation lasts as long as the desire—”

“You fucked James Flint.” Anne interrupted, grim as ever.

“Y-yes?”

Jack took up the interrogation again for some reason — which is what it now felt like. “As in, you were the pitcher and he was the catcher?”

Wrinkling his nose at the euphemism, John nodded again. Jack whistled low. Anne grimaced but stayed totally quiet.

“I’d keep that information under your hat, darling, if I were you.” Thomas sounded much less flippant than normal and John frowned at him, puzzled. He wasn’t giving anything away, however. “You too, Jack.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to grimace. But he also raised his hands in surrender with a mild smile at Thomas. “I know nothing.”

“Too true,” Thomas retorted.

Neither of them looked to Anne, but that was because warning Anne Bonny to keep quiet about something was like putting on a belt when you were already wearing suspenders.

“Let me just get this thing I don’t know straight: James Flint took you home, let you fuck him, and he still wants you?”

“I hope so—”

“No, he does. I can see it,” Jack snapped. “Don’t look, you fool.”

John pulled his eyes away from the bar and back to Jack’s assessing gaze.

“Interesting...”

“Enough, Jackie,” Thomas said as if bored. John wondered if his tone was more tactical than accurate.

“All right, all right..” Jack placed the strips of paper into John’s care and got up to leave with Anne — or maybe at the same time as Anne. It was hard to tell whether Anne ever wanted company or just suffered people’s presence until they could get away.

While John was mulling that over, Thomas shifted to the seat closest to John’s. “All right. Now. Tell me _everything,_ darling.”

“I thought I was keeping it under my hat,” John snarked.

Thomas waved a hand. “I don’t count. James doesn’t have secrets from me.”

“Then go ask James about last night,” John said flippantly, unfolding the papers and stacking them in a pile.

Thomas turned toward the bar like he just might do the thing.

“No, God, don’t.” John just barely kept himself from grabbing Thomas’ arm. “Unless you’ll tell me what he says...?”

“Not a chance. Spill, sweetheart.”

“Goddd...” John covered his eyes with one hand, trying to blot out the look on Thomas’ face. It was a combination of proud papa and predator. It made John’s skin hot.

“Come come, you promised.” He tugged on John’s shirt like an overeager child.

“I did _not._ ”

“You ungrateful little _snot._ Come on, please? James hasn’t been this focused on a pup in ages and I want details. What was he looking for?”

“Me, apparently,” John mumbled behind his hair.

He still couldn’t believe that James hadn’t wanted to play tourist with a transboy, just to see what it was like. Instead he’d been so fucking respectful and so eager, so beyond simply curious to what seemed to be truly desirous, that it still made John blush to think about.

“Well, duh,” Thomas said pulling John’s chair closer to him so their sides were nearly pressed together. His mouth was so close to John’s ear he could feel Thomas’ breath stirring his hair. “But what did he want? Apart from your cock in his mouth. God that man and his oral fixation...”

“Yeah, that was fucking hot. I didn’t expect him to be so into a silicone dick.”

“He’s had practice. Though, to be fair, I used to let him train away his gag reflex on mine...”

“Your...?” John raised his eyebrows, and was rewarded with a single one raised back, along with Thomas not so subtly glancing at his own lap.

“He was an industrious student, my Jamie.” Thomas looked away with a wistful, fond smile on his thin lips.

_Jamie._

The possessive was also not lost on John, but he heard it as more of a vestigial claim than a warning.

“You trained him well, and I thank you for that.” John doffed an imaginary hat and Thomas pursed his lips as if trying not to smile.

“Oh, it wasn’t just me. He’s picked up tricks all over. But you’re welcome all the same.”

John paused for a second, wondering if he should voice his next thought or if he was getting too gossipy. It wasn’t quite kiss-and-tell — more like asking advice from someone who knew. Though he knew he really should broach something like this with James himself.

_Oh what the hell._

“Is he as trainable as he seems, by the way? Does he like taking orders or was he just humoring me because I took the lead?”

Thomas narrowed his eyes at John, who took it as a bit of censure for asking him instead of going to the source. He ducked his head, mildly ashamed of himself.

Of course, Thomas couldn’t help answering anyway. “Take from this what you will, but T-B-H, he was the _original_ pup. You didn’t hear that from me, though.”

_Oh shit._

John’s face must have echoed his thoughts because Thomas snorted in amusement and nodded primly, as if to accentuate his point.

“He didn’t mention that, and I even asked him about the term — its usage and all.”

“He might not know that, actually. I’d never used it before him, but it fit so well at the time I couldn’t help myself. And then when we branched out to other lovers, we just sort of started using it generally, which was fine with me. I’ve never had any true claim on that man and really, why should I?”

“He said the term started as a way to claim someone you were interested in, and then morphed into a nickname.”

“That’s age and a bad memory for you. But it’s true that we used to signal to each other who we wanted to take home so we wouldn’t get into territory wars at the end of the night.”

John smirked, then took a deep breath to ask the question that had been stuck like a burr to him since this all started. “Okay, but... Did you call me pup last night for a reason, then?”

‘What? Like to call dibs?”

John nodded, feeling dumb for asking, but needing to know.

“No, honey. You know I’m fine with your thing for James. I wouldn’t sabotage that. Besides, I haven’t used the word that way in an age.”

“But then why did you say it?”

Thomas’ eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion, but more in assessment. “I suppose you remind me of him, when he was younger.” John’s eyes widened. “God, don’t tell him that, whatever you do. He’ll hate hearing it.”

“What about how _I_ feel? I’m not a sub, you know.”

“I know, honey. It’s so obvious you can be either a brat or a bastard, depending on your mood. He’s a switch too, B-T-W.”

That brought John up short. James had rolled over so nicely for him he’d nearly purred himself, but knowing that James had chosen to give that to John because he’d shown that he’d wanted it, not simply because it was James’ habit, did something drastic to his insides. And his perspective. “Is the resemblance why—” John stopped himself just in time, but Thomas perked up and leaned closer.

“Is that why I expressed interest in you? Only partly. The other part is how gorgeous you are, pup.”

John sighed, exasperated. Thomas chuckled.

“You get complimented too much, Johnny-boy. You don’t appreciate it anymore. From now on, I’m only taking the piss.” Thomas tossed imaginary long hair as he stood and headed to the bar.

John would have called after him if he hadn’t seen James’ attention swing their direction as Thomas strutted up to him and ordered another round.

James looked past him to John at their table with a soft smile that made John’s stomach flip over. When John gave a little wave and a grin, James winked back before turning away to make the drinks. John had to take a deep breath to even himself out.

_He was in wayyyy over his head already._

And yet, John couldn’t bring himself to care in the slightest.

 

~~

 

 **T.Hammy:** Dish.

 **Jamiepants:** No?

 **T.Hammy:** Please?

 **Jamiepants:** Why?

 **T.Hammy:** Why do you think? He’s gorgeous and you stole him out from under me.

 **Jamiepants:** Are you actually upset? You could have said no about bringing him Monday...

 **T.Hammy:** Not upset. We swore off jealousy years ago, baby. Besides, he wanted you just as bad.  
**T.Hammy:** I AM a bit envious, tho. Which is why I want you to dish. :P

 **Jamiepants:** Didn’t you already hear all about it from him?  
**Jamiepants:** I saw you two after the meeting today.

 **T.Hammy:** I was just giving him some sage advice on the care and feeding of our Jamiepants.

 **Jamiepants:** You didn’t.

 **T.Hammy:** I didn’t. We didn’t even talk about you the whole time so check that ego, mister.

 **Jamiepants:** :P  
**Jamiepants:** Not the whole time, but a little bit?

 **T.Hammy:** A very little bit. I think he’s grateful you let him take the lead.

 **Jamiepants:** He had more boundaries. It seemed like the best way to handle that was to let him decide what happened and how.

 **T.Hammy:** Smart. So what happened, and how? *chinhands*

 **Jamiepants:** Stahhpp  
**Jamiepants:** Fine.  
**Jamiepants:** He’s a verse, so it got interesting real quick, honestly.

 **T.Hammy:** Did you... let him in?

 **Jamiepants:** That was the condition - he’d fuck me before I could fuck him.

 **T.Hammy:** And....?

 **Jamiepants:** He’s fucking good at it. At all of it. Christ, Hams.

 **T.Hammy:** You still want him.

 **Jamiepants:** As much as I can get him.

 **T.Hammy:** I’m pretty sure you only have to ask...

 **Jamiepants:** Thank God.

 **T.Hammy:** I’ll leave you to it then. <3

 **Jamiepants:** Thanks, babe. :*

 **T.Hammy:** xoxoxoxoxo

 

~~

 

 **James Flint:** You busy?

 **John Silver:** Nope

 **James Flint:** You interested?

 **John Silver:** YEP 😃

 **James Flint:** You wanna be here in 10min?

 **John Silver:** Gimme 20 🛵💨

 **James Flint:** \o/


	4. Wednesday, February 7th

Deep into calculating how quickly the bar went through cases of High Life in the last month, James barely registered the back door opening. It was the only one he unlocked when he was at the bar before it opened, and very few people knew that, so he wasn’t worried.

He was surprised, however, when he looked over his shoulder, the number twenty-two on his lips, and saw John walk into the main room. He was in dark jeans and a peacoat, with a tight dark v-neck underneath, his hair up in a casual but deeply seductive bun. James’ stomach did a little dip and his chest filled with fizz as a smile spread unbidden along one side of his face.

“Mr Silver. Welcome. What brings you here?” James swiveled on his bar stool to face John, who came right up to him and slotted his hips between James’ legs, hands sliding high up on his thighs, mouth quirked into an amused smirk.

“You,” John murmured, leaning in for a kiss.

James indulged him happily. That boy’s mouth was a delight every time. It had only been two days but they’d already found a delicious rhythm, and John didn’t hesitate to grab James’ ass and pull him closer. James wrapped his arms and his legs around John’s back and nipped his lower lip before pulling his head away to ask, “No but really. Why are you here?”

“I volunteered to pick up Hal’s contract for the troupe before rehearsal at Max’s, but I did so because I wanted to see you. And feel you,” he added, with a squeeze of James’ ass. His pupils were already blown, black blocking out the blue, his cheeks were turning a pretty pink hue, and he had a hungry look about him that both twisted and warmed James’ gut.

_God this pup did it for him._

“Well, here I am,” James murmured, lips approaching John’s, legs wrapping tighter around his waist. “Now what?”

“Can I fuck you?” John whispered into James’ waiting mouth.

As they kissed, James hummed in pleasure but made it sound like he was trying to decide if he’d allow it. “How much time do we have?” he breathed directly into John’s ear.

John shivered, just as James had hoped he would. “Half an hour, ish?”

“Perfect. Come into my office.”

The moment the door was closed, John was shucking off his coat and reaching for his belt.

“Let me,” James purred, kneeling in front of John.

“Fuck, yeah,” John breathed, gently tugging James’ ponytail out and running both hands through his hair.

The bulge in his jeans was enticing, and James savored unwrapping it, especially when John huffed in impatience.

This time the cock was light pink, and it stayed in place against John’s pelvis when James tugged his briefs away. He looked up at John’s impish smile, then back down to watch John’s hands unbend the cock so it was jutting out from his hips at a V-shaped angle. James was about to place a kiss on the frenulum when he noticed a little smiley face etched into the silicone.

He huffed a laugh, then kissed the little face, and John sighed in delight.

“Wasn’t sure if you kept supplies at the bar, so...” John patted his left buttcheek pocket, now nearer the back of his knee.

James scoffed as he reached into the pocket and found a condom and a couple packets of lube. “Of course, but this is quicker.” By which he meant he wouldn’t have to get up off his knees and back down again.

As he unwrapped the condom he said, “Do you want my mouth first or what?”

“I always want your mouth, but that’s your call. If you wanna taste this cock before I sink it into your hole, be my guest, kitten.”

It _did_ have a lovely texture... James ran his hand up and down the shaft a few times, gauging the thickness, admiring the softness, and noticing the hard core in the center that held its shape.

As James dithered, John said, “I’m gonna sit right here in this chair, and you can decide if you’re gonna put your face or your ass in my lap.”

He dropped into the leather chair and slouched, spreading his legs wide. James crawled over to his lap and tugged John’s pants down to his ankles, then rolled the condom onto his lovely cock. It made James’ mouth water just to do that much, so he slid his hands up John’s thighs, tickling the hairs enough to make him squirm a little, then bent over and licked the cock from base to tip, making sure John could see how much he enjoyed getting his mouth on him.

The give of the silicone on his soft palate was gratifying, and James enjoyed sucking on the head for a while before taking most of the cock down his throat. John’s hand fisted in James’ hair at that and held him down for a few long moments, just as James had hoped he would. This cock was so much easier on his throat he couldn’t help humming, which made John hiss in pleasure.

Instead of choking him again, John tugged James up and said, “Climb up and sit on it, baby.”

As James shoved off his pants, John reached into the harness to adjust something. James heard a click and then a soft buzzing sound, and John sighed and brought his knees together.  He ripped open a lube packet, squirted half into James’ hand, and the other half onto his own dick.

James slicked his hole then climbed onto John’s lap, letting John guide the cock to his entrance, and slowly lowered himself onto it.

_God, he’d fucking needed this._

 

~~

 

John held his breath as James sank down on his cock, face flushed pink with eyes closed and mouth open, beautifully desperate for _him._ John couldn’t get enough of this, found excuses to steal moments to take it, was drowning in a need for it that would _not stop._

It would have been worrying if James didn’t seem just as hungry as him.

Showing up at the bar had been a risk, but John was shameless when he wanted something he thought he could get, and the gamble had paid off in full. 

James moaned as he bottomed out, adjusting until the cock was fully seated inside as if he couldn’t get enough of how good it felt. The vibrator buzzed right against John’s sweet spot and he was pretty sure it was stimulating every nerve ending inside James as well. 

“Christ John. This one’s fucking delicious.”

John grinned, triumphant. “Good. I was hoping you’d like it, because I can pack with it anytime, so I’m ready to fuck you whenever you need it.”

“Fuck,” James gasped. “Yes please.”

The longing in James’ voice spiked John’s own need straight through him.

“All right, kitten. I got you.” John wrapped his lube-covered hand around James’ cock and pumped up and down until James’ hips started moving. He moaned as James rocked harder on his lap, giving him more friction.

At some point James’ rocking turned into holding himself a few inches above John’s lap as John thrust up into him over and over, letting his cock drag nearly all the way out again before pushing back in as deeply as he could. James was perched above him, head tilted back, mouth still open, throat exposed. John couldn’t quite reach his collarbone but managed to suck a dark bruise on his left pec as James’ palm cupped the back of his head to hold him in place. 

They lost track of time as they indulged in each other, until James’ legs started to shake.

He grimaced. Something was unsatisfactory. “Babe... Baby, I need...”

“You need finishing,” John growled, pumping James’ cock harder and thrusting into him faster.

Something wasn’t quite enough, though. The angle must have been off somehow.

“I need...” He sounded nearly to the edge but still far enough away to frustrate. John knew the feeling and hated it.

“Up,” He ordered, smacking James’ ass. “Hands on the desk.”

James’ eyes flew open and he mouthed “Fuck yes,” as he climbed off of John’s lap. He was so gone he didn’t hesitate to bend over his own desk, letting his head hang down between his shoulders and taking a couple slow breaths.

John needed a moment to breathe too, to take in this glorious sight — James’ broad, white-clothed back and creamy thighs, his perfect freckled ass with its well-used hole, waiting to be filled.

_God, he was such so fucking lucky to get this._

He couldn’t help pausing just a hair longer, making James wait just a little more for him, just to feel the rush of watching a cisdude be this patient to get fucked by _him._

The intake of breath when John’s hands pushed James’ shirttail up over his back was delicious, but it was nothing compared to the sound James made when John spread his asscheeks wide and guided his cock, now arrow straight, directly in that greedy hole and against his prostate.

John seated himself deep then let out a long, slow breath. James whimpered and reached back near John’s hip, and it was clear he was desperate for John to move, to finish him off quick before he fell apart. “Please, John. Please...”

“Yeah. Yeah. Here you go, baby.”

And John pulled back and thrust home, hard and fast and true, over and over, in the exact way that made James lose all control and just keen, needy and sated at once, sweating and shivering and still wanting more.

“Fuck, you take it so good,” John panted, his hands gripping James’ hips tight enough to leave bruises. Hopefully.

Every thrust inside pressed the vibe hard against John’s flesh cock, and every pull out left room for resonance to build. The pleasure — mental and physical — was dizzying, and John would have gone on forever if James hadn’t started to cry out with every thrust, clearly getting close, or possibly overstimulated.

John tried to reach around for his dick but couldn’t do so and keep up the pace. “Touch yourself, baby. Come on. Make a mess.”

James’ neck and ears turned bright pink as he did what he was told. At the rare pleasure of such ready obedience, fire crawled up John’s own neck, a rosy echo.

It didn’t take many strokes for James to come then, clenching tight around John as he tried to keep thrusting, and shooting all over the front of the desk.

James threw his head back and groaned, and John grabbed hold of his hair and tugged, arching James’ back as he pushed home and took every last drop of pleasure he could wring from their positions. The vibrator, in concert with the truly debauched display in front of him, pushed him _just barely_ over the edge, giving him enough to appease his lust without fully slaking his thirst.

After another moment, he pulled out of James and let go his hair. James went limp and made a choking whimper of a sound. He seemed to be stuck leaning on the desk, head down, watching in a daze as his come slid in streaks down the metal desk facing and dripped onto the floor.

“Good?” John asked, breathing heavily.

“Yeah. Fuck. You? Can I help...” James reached back to touch John but he shied away.

“I’m good.”

“Babe, you didn’t come, did you? Let me—

“I got enough from the vibe for now,” He deflected, hating that sometimes when he fucked like this he couldn’t get quite enough sensation to satisfy. Thankfully, the image of James, fucked out and splayed across his desk, was so visually arousing that John was already filing it away for later use.

“ _God,_ though. Just looking at you, bent over like that...” John dragged a hand up James’ spine and a possessive spike of lust shot through him.

_Later. He could think about this later, when he had time._

He stepped back and James stood up and turned around.

With one look at John and then himself, James started to chuckle. John joined in. They were both a mess, looking thoroughly debauched. John’s hair was coming out of its bun, he’d bitten his bottom lip to swelling, and his pants were still around his ankles. James’ hair was in his eyes and caught in his beard, he had lube dripping down his inner thigh, and he was standing there in just his white collared shirt and socks.

Propping himself against the messy desk, James gestured for John to come close. He did, his pink cock hanging low, pointing straight out from his pelvis. James tugged at his hips to bring them flush with his own, and the cock slid between his thighs as if it belonged there. James then wrapped his arms around John’s waist, just holding him in place, a dopey, satisfied smile on his face.

The naturalness of the gesture, of their position, the artless joy James expressed at getting to hold him, caught in John’s throat, making him swallow around a feeling he didn’t quite know the name of.

It should have unsettled him but it felt too good to be in James’ arms for him to care.

And then of course there was that smile as James said, “I can’t believe I just let you fuck me in my own god damned office.”

John chuckled, able to breathe again. “Me neither, but fuck was it hot.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna let you do it again, either.”

“Oh yeah? Careful, it might become a habit.” John slipped his hands around the back of James’ neck and played with the hair at his nape.

James purred. “I think it already is.”

“Oh,” John said, losing a bit of his lightheartedness. “You’ve had other cute guys in here?”

“Nope. Not in years.”

“Mmmm. Well. Let’s keep it that way, then.” He hitched his hips to press his cock against James’ balls and taint.

“Mmff. Easily done. I don’t want anyone but you.” James leaned in to press a kiss to John’s lips, but John wasn’t ready to let that comment go.

He backed off, looking hard into James eyes. “And Thomas and Gates.”

“They can wait their turns,” James murmured sweetly.

“Does that mean I get you again tonight?”

James’ eyes flashed a greedy green, which meant yes. “Well I owe you an orgasm, so, yeah. I can’t fuck you back here during my actual shift, though. After I close?”

“Text me when you’re locking up,” John said trying to not sound too eager already. “Cock preference? You seem to like this one.”

“Choices, choices,” James mused. “Same lover, different dick every night. What a lovely concept.” After a sweet kiss, he whispered against John’s lips, “Surprise me.”

“I’ll bring options.”

“Perfect.” James kissed John again, briefly, but John still wanted more. He tugged on James’ hair and extended the kiss another couple minutes, taking with his mouth what his cock still needed.

For his part, James seemed just as ravenous, and willing to give John what he needed without hesitation — even if that meant letting John bite his lips hungrily — and giving as good as he got.

John moaned at the sharp press of teeth on his swollen lip, the pain a gratifying substitution for pleasure deferred.

“You’re going to be late,” James finally reminded between nibbles.

“Fuck ‘em.”

“I’d rather you fucked me,” James breathed into John’s messy hair.

“Later, kitten. And only after you make me come.”

“With pleasure.”

One last long kiss, with James’ hands straying to clutch John’s ass, and John whimpered as he pulled away. That was _not_ going to help him get through the rest of the day.

“I’m actually late now,” he said as he hurriedly pulled up his pants and tucked himself away.

“Go. See you tonight.” James handed over Hal’s contract and swatted John’s ass as he walked away.

He threw a warning glance over his shoulder as he opened the office door and headed out, but James just chuckled.

_Later. John would get him back for that later, when they had time._

 

~~

 

John was hard again, still had his pack-and-play cock on, and was running much later than usual, but _damn,_ it’d been worth it. James was so fucking gorgeous and up for it all the time, and he let John do what he wanted — even let him have real control. He was fucking addictive.

_God, could there be a more perfect cisdude?_

Scooting from one bar to the other took legit seven minutes, so he wasn’t _that_ late, especially when one considered the gossip session that started every troupe meeting.

He parked between the real parking spaces and the building because he could, and headed through the back door, hoping his tardiness would escape too much notice that way.

Except _Guess Who_ was in the back room, going through the week’s receipts.

_Abort! Abort!_

John had nearly backed out again when Max spoke without looking up from her work.

“What are you doing here, Silver?”

“Rehearsal for Tuesday? What else?”

“No. What are you doing here, in my back room? I didn’t invite you here.”

“Sorry. I parked in the back and...” Thinking quickly he pulled out the contract. “I thought you’d want this—”

“Do not think.” She finally looked up at him and immediately narrowed her eyes. Suspicion radiated from her gorgeously made-up face. “Come here.”

He didn’t question or hesitate, he just did what he was told. It hadn’t taken him long to learn that was the only option.

She stood and approached him, getting uncomfortably close, staring at his face, his hair, his clothes. The contract in his hand.

And then she did something that mortified John — she sniffed him.

He knew that he smelled like sex — arousal and sweat and spit — and he flushed hot watching it register on her face. The recognition, the disgust.

Her hand shot out and he didn’t even have time to flinch before she’d grabbed tight hold of his jaw, her fingers digging into his cheeks, pushing them together until his lips were weirdly smushed. Then she shook her head slowly and tsked.

Another wave of hot embarrassment washed over him. He hadn’t felt this caught out since he was a teenager. He did _not_ want to revisit those memories, especially not with Max of all people. But she kept him focused on the situation at hand, bless her. And also curse her.

“Please, _mon cher,”_ Max purred menacingly in his ear, her hand still clutching his chin. “Tell me it isn’t true, what I hear.”

“What do you hear?” The words were as smushed together as his lips, but they ended up mostly intelligible.

“That you are fucking the competition. The famous James Flint.” She pronounced the name clearly, sharply biting the consonants as if giving it due tribute. The _name,_ though, not the _man._ “You are still fuck _ING_ , no? You understand that no one does that for long, yes?”

She let go of his face so he assumed she expected an actual answer.

“No...? Thomas has—”

“Thomas Hamilton is an exception to every rule. Have you not learned that yet, _mon petit prince?”_

“I mean, yeah, he’s fucking amazing, but—”

“No buts. It is true. James Flint goes through lovers like a drag queen goes through makeup sponges. He’s got you all hot and bothered _now,_ but by the weekend you will be dropped in the waste paper basket and I will _not_ be picking up the pieces. Do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Why are you even wasting time with a cis? They are useless.”

“I mean, find me a trans guy to fuck every night of the week and I’ll... Fuck, I don’t even know what I’d—”

“Yes, I know it is a problem in this town. _However._ My assessment of the cis is accurate, still.”

“Generally I agree with you, but James—”

“What did I say about the buts.” She grabbed his face again and looked directly into his eyes as she spoke. “Preparations for _both shows_ next week will not be side-tracked or sabotaged by your emotions around that rapacious man. If there is drama between you two, or you and Thomas, _keep it at The Frigate._ You bring it here, and I will be a very unhappy Max. _Comprenez vous?”_

“Yes ma’am,” he smushily mumbled.

“ _C’est bien._ Good boy. Now go.” She let go of his face, snatched the contract from his hand, and waved him away from her dramatically. She did most things dramatically, he was learning.

Especially giving advice.

_More like a warning..._

John shook his head as he walked into the main room of the bar and joined his fellow troupe members. Even if Max was right — which he couldn’t believe, given how well things were going with James — at least he would have had a stellar week of fantastic sex with a cisdude who treated him well.

He hadn’t really been looking for more than that, so he already felt like he’d hit the jackpot. Losing such a treasure would be fucking rough, but gamblers knew how it worked: ‘easy come, easy go.’

He could figure out how to live with the loss, he was pretty sure.


	5. Thursday, February 8th

“Good?”

“Fuck. Yeah...”

“More?”

John paused, his head reeling a bit, trying to adjust to the feel of James’ finger inside him. Before yesterday, it had been a while since he’d bottomed for another person and he still wasn’t used to it. All the sensations were so very different with someone else than when he did it to himself.

Part of that was how well James multitasked. Even with one hand busy entering John, he still found ways to light up nerve endings all over John’s body, from running the other hand under his shirt and along his back and sides to licking and biting his neck and collarbone.

“Whatever you want, lovely boy.” James’ lips against John’s neck caused a shiver he could feel all the way down to his filled hole.

“Yes,” John barely breathed. He could have whatever he wanted. And James would give it to him.

_How fucking amazing was that?_

“Another finger?”

John nodded. James kissed his neck, adjusted his hand beneath John, and, even at that non-optimal angle, gently slid a second slick finger in.

“Fuck.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just...”

James paused all movement except the hand underneath John’s shirt, rubbing small circles on his lower back. John let himself relax and breathe a moment, connecting all of the sensations into one —  his legs straddling James’ lap, the heat between their bodies, the feel of James’ hair in his hands, the fullness of James’ fingers inside him. James looked up at him with a soft smile tinged with hunger, patient but ready.

“Yeah.” John leaned down to kiss him, intending to ramp up the passion of the moment and get them moving again.

Instead, the instant he pressed their lips together, all he wanted was sweetness. It was a little difficult this far along to kiss chastely, especially when James’ fingers shifted inside him as he bent over, but that wasn’t what he wanted either. He just wanted to let James know how much he loved their time together — hell, how much he cared for James, even. How much his heart was now in this, along with his dick.

It was dangerous, he knew, but also he didn’t care. What was the point of being someone's lover — especially when letting them fuck you — if you weren’t going to put yourself into it, heart and soul?

Maybe this was a product of finding someone who was such a good match, sexually, but maybe it was also just a product of who James Flint was, and how John felt about him.

_Christ, this man._

The kiss lengthened but didn't intensify, at least not in a passionate direction. James' mouth was soft and sweet and John drank deeply from it, in no rush to move along if he could have this.

_What if he could have this? What if this was the new normal?_

A wave of emotion surged through him and he faltered in the kiss, then pulled back to look at James, who blinked open his eyes with a fond, quizzical look, and seemed content to just wait for John to say or do something.

The thing was, all John wanted was _this moment,_ so they sat in it together until James’ hand twitched, possibly from the odd angle, and John let out a tiny, desperate breath.

"God, John. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Look at you." The awe in James' voice melted all over John's skin, flushing him hot and causing prickles of excitement to surface. His shirt suddenly felt like too much weight and a barrier between them where he no longer needed one.

"Go ahead and look, babe," John purred as he stripped his t-shirt off.

James' eyes widened and he swallowed hard, his gaze roaming for the first time over all the newly exposed skin. John shivered and tried not to regret his impetuous decision — one he hadn’t yet made with a cis person since the surgery — instead he just tried to bask in James’ appreciation.

"Fucking gorgeous," James breathed, "May I touch you?"

"No, sorry. There's really no point. It's all numb."

James nodded, still looking his fill.

John's cheeks burned at the attention. Even though his scars had healed fine and he'd been able to build up his chest muscles, he was still super self conscious about how it looked, and even more weirded out by how it felt.

His clothed silhouette felt very right ever since he’d had top surgery, but he was still disconnected from the chest itself as part of his body, and the idea of someone else touching it was actually kind of distressing.

He clenched around James’ fingers, both as a distraction technique and also to ground him in the moment. It worked on both levels.

“Mmm. What do you want, pup? You wanna try my cock, or..."

"Yeah, yeah. That."

James let his fingers slip slowly out of John, causing a combination of relief and desperation, marked by a choked whimper. He took firm hold of John's haunches and helped him lift up off his legs, as John lubed up the condom on James' cock and guided it to his hole.

He bore down to take the head of James' cock inside, gasping at the stretch —  the anguish of way too much and the relief of not quite enough. The deeper he went, though, the more satisfaction, and the larger reaction from James as well.

He started out with a soft moan, but it gained in volume and intensity as John sank lower into his lap.

As John lowered himself, James' arms slid up John's body until they held and caressed his whole bare back, a move that felt oddly intimate, romantic, even. James hung his head as John bottomed out, and he was holding John so close his hair brushed John's sternum.

In a move that surprised even himself, John wrapped his arms around James' head and cradled it to his chest. James' forehead was against John's sternum and he sighed, his lips brushing John's upper abs. John felt the slightest hint of a kiss as he held James' head against his heart.

It was A Lot, but the thing that made it the most overwhelming was the fact that it wasn't too much.

Then James pumped very slightly up into him, just an almost unconscious hitch of his hips, and John remembered to breathe again.

And also to move.

He started rocking his hips and James grunted in gratification, raising his head to watch John ride his cock. Before long John was pushing James backwards down on the bed so he could brace his hands on James’ chest and get the right speed and angle and length of stroke.

James slid his hands along John’s thighs in an indulgent gesture that almost felt proprietary, which should have made John balk but instead had him pressing into the touch.

Soon, with a permission-seeking eyebrow, James moved his hand towards John’s flesh cock. John nodded and James began to stroke him just the way he’d been taught. The build-up of pleasure inside John blossomed even further in all the right places, as James watched and stroked and coaxed him to climax.

“That’s it, baby boy. Come all over my belly. Make a mess of me.”

_Fucking hello._

That mental image on top of everything else — and not just the image but the act of James saying it as if John could actually shoot come all over him — launched John into orgasm before he was ready for it.

He came hard and long, rocking and making soft, high-pitched moans, as James cooed sweet praises and coaxed every last drop of pleasure out of his body.

At last he collapsed on top of James, bare chest to bare chest, tearfully panting his thanks into James’ neck. When James wrapped his warm, reassuring arms around John’s back he sighed, serene, fulfilled. Content to never move again. At least not until morning.

_Letting someone in was a lot of fucking work, but God in heaven, was it worth it._

 


	6. Friday, February 9th

“All right, finally we’re all here.” Jack specifically did _not_ look at John as he walked in late. Again. “Has every pair thought of a song for their number?”

Charlotte raised her hand. Jack nodded at her just like a teacher would.

“Logan and I have _very_ different tastes in music. I dunno if we’ll ever agree on something.”

“Have you thought about a remix or a cover of a song one of you likes, done in a manner the other one prefers?”

John gaped at Thomas with his insightful suggestion, and wondered if this was why he was so good at poly stuff — being good at negotiation.

“It’s the _style_ of the music we enjoy performing to that we really clash on,” Logan pouted.

“A medley?” John offered with a shrug. Both Logan and Charlotte looked interested so he added, “You could pick two different versions of the same song, one that each of you liked, maybe?”

“The shift from one version to the other would make for a fun choreography shift...” Thomas mused.

Logan stroked his scruffy chin. He didn’t shave between drag performances so he could get the cleanest shave possible, day of. “I like this. Sound workable, Charlie?”

“Sure. Didn’t some really poppy band cover a Nirvana song, actually? Made it into like a swinging sixties tune...?”

At Charlotte’s question, Logan bounced in his seat. John had never seen him so excited. “Yes, yes! Dammit, who was it?” He started to look the song up on his phone, still bouncing. “Oh my _God_ it was Cibo Matto. They did ‘[About A Girl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zp6fUKeb4Vc&list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu&index=4)’ and it’s so fucking good! That bossa nova beat! It’s perfect, Char!”

He talked animatedly to her about the different kinds of choreography they could use in each half of the number, and she nodded at every word he said while keeping one ear trained on the tinny music emanating from his phone. Her expression vacillated between fascinated and disdainful.

“Fan _tas_ tic,” Jack said to the room. “Anyone else need a nudge?”

“Nope, we’re set. That duet from the new remake of that old movie — [the one with Lady Gaga](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bo_efYhYU2A&list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu&index=5) — is going to be perfect for us.” Eleanor turned to Joji, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Good. We’ve got ours as well.” Jack threw his comment away, discouraging any inquiries. Thomas shot John an intrigued look but neither of them said anything before Jack moved on. “Gus? What have you got?”

It was Idelle who spoke up. “‘[Love Is Strange](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5mvN05MSa48&list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu&index=6)’ by Mickey and Sylvia.”

At the blank looks around the table, Gus said, “That one from _Dirty Dancing_? You know, ‘Oh lover boy..’” His voice had risen to an unlikely octave, mimicking the female singer perfectly.

A chorus of “oooh,” with a smattering of “of course,” and “great choice,” followed.

John couldn’t help asking, “One question: did you pick it because Idelle wanted to be Patrick Swayze or because you wanted to be Jennifer Grey?”

“Yes,” Gus said firmly.  

John snorted. Thomas raised his glass with an emphatic, “Hear, hear!”

“No lifts, though. We decided we wouldn’t even try,” Idelle looked at Gus sweetly, but her lips were pulled to the side as if trying to stop a smile from spreading.

“I know it’s the smart move, but I have to say I’m disappointed my one dream from childhood will never be realized,” Gus sighed dramatically and the whole table chuckled. A couple people mumbled “Same, girl,” and shook their heads.

“However it plays out, it will be fabulous,” Jack said. “Thomas?” He looked innocently over at Thomas and John who had been sitting together the whole meeting.

“A classic T. Swift number. ‘[Blank Space](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-ORhEE9VVg&list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu&index=3)’.”

“That’s not a duet,” Eleanor stated flatly.

“True, but the music video makes it clear there are two people in the equation and we were thinking of patterning our performance off of that.” Thomas said airily, handling the comment way better than John would have if he hadn’t been saved the trouble.

“Lovely.” At this point John could tell that Jack didn’t really care if the songs fit the theme, he just wanted a drink. “Well? Shall we all break off into pairs to discuss? We can reconvene later if anyone has problems they need to work out or choreography they’d like to show off.”

Everyone was already busy talking to their partner, so Jack headed to the bar in a huff, Anne stalking after him.

Thomas turned toward John, saying, “ _Well._ I’ve been thinking, darling, about how to do this. I don’t want it exactly like the music video, as that would be derivative and boring—”

“And also super het,” John interjected.

Thomas nodded sagely. “And also super het. Which, _EW,_ so yes. Some changes are in order.”

"Okay but you're still going to wear an amazing dress and act like a spoiled princess, yes?”

“Yes, obvy,” Thomas said. “But I was thinking, like, less emotional abuse and more a sexy power struggle kind of thing.”

“Oooh, yes please.”

Thomas cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at John, whose neck flushed hot at how eager he’d sounded. Thomas hummed in a way that made John feel like he was about to be called out for being thirsty but instead he let it slide and moved on.

John took a deep breath and followed his lead.

But really, Thomas couldn’t be fully ignorant of 1) how alluring he was, and 2) how much John liked him as a person. They’d gotten along well from the start and John had enjoyed their banter for at least a month now. This wasn’t anything new.

Except, somehow, now that he and James were fucking daily, it was easier to be more casually interested in Thomas. John wouldn’t actually _do_ anything, not while James held his focus, but the stakes with Thomas had lowered and John didn’t feel as restricted around how they interacted because now it couldn’t really _mean_ anything. They’d moved past the awkward hey-I-like-you thing without doing anything about it, and while James was in the picture Thomas would keep his distance, so they could just flirt a bunch and enjoy it without worrying about where it might go.

Of course, setting up an entire choreographed sequence where they pretended to be lovers and stripped to their skivvies was _not_ the way to reduce the latent sexual tension between them in any way.

“I really think it’ll work better if _you_ tear my dress off instead,” Thomas was saying. “Especially if I’m wearing boxers underneath.”

“Boxers? Does that mean I should be wearing lace panties under my suit pants?”

“If you would. Maybe a garter belt too?” Thomas said with a sidelong glance and John swore the temperature in the room rose twelve degrees.

“Going from super het to super queer in 2.5 seconds. I fucking love it.”

“Well, maybe the length of a chorus, but yes. Don’t you think that’ll work well, though?”

“Oh absolutely. I’m so here for all the gender play all the time.”

“I thought so,” Thomas said with a sweet sideways smile, his eyes too fond for John to look at for very long.

“I’m so glad we get to work together on this,” John mumbled while looking down at his hands on the table.

“I’m so glad you put me as your first choice, pup.”

“Thomas, _everyone_ put you as their first choice. Except Anne.”

“Oh? Well, then I’m glad we used ranked choice voting.”

“And I’m glad you put me as _your_ first choice,” John replied, trying not to blush.

“Of course, baby.” Thomas cooed.

The endearment wasn’t all that notable — though John was pretty sure Thomas had ever used it with him — but the way he said it...

Like John was special. Worthy.

Of what, he wasn’t sure, but it caught at him and warmed his insides. He had to clear his throat to speak. “Did you wanna practice any of the moves?”

“Not without the music, and we’ve only got a few minutes before the place opens for actual customers.”

“Fair. Oh.” John had involuntarily turned toward the bar and caught sight of James rolling up his sleeves for the evening’s shift. It did things to him.

Thomas chuckled and patted John’s arm. “We can continue this conversation another time, darling. Go on.”

“Are you sure?” John couldn’t tear his eyes away from James’ freckled forearms. Surely Thomas would understand.

“Of course. Have fun.”

John quickly air-kissed Thomas’ cheeks and headed toward the bar.

James looked up from chopping ice and his face broke into a delighted smile. John’s face followed suit as his stomach started to levitate.

“Hey, pup. Meeting go well?”

“Yep. You’re gonna love my number with Thomas.”

“I have no doubt. What can I do for you?” His voice was mild and polite on the surface but John was nearly certain that the low register had been chosen intentionally to sound sexy and seductive.

It fucking worked. Maybe because John’s heart rate was already elevated from talking with Thomas. But also maybe by this time John’s pavlovian response to James was to get hard just being in his presence.

He chose to run with it since so far James’ desire had matched his, moment to moment. He leaned on the bar and pitched his voice down to murmur, “Let me blow you in your office?”

“Oh.” James’ strong, graceful hands froze mid-action and it took him a second before he continued hacking the ice block in the sink with a chisel. “You know I won’t when there are customers in the bar.”

“Sooo... after you close again tonight?”

“You’ll still be here?”

“If not, I’m only a text away...”

“Good point,” James said, moving some large chunks of ice into a bucket and wiping his hands on a towel. He dropped one into a rocks glass and started to fill it. “But what if I want you in my bed instead?”

“I know where you live...” John stepped up onto the foot rail so he could lean even further over the bar and be that much closer to James. He didn’t care if it looked clingy to anyone else. He and James were more of a _thing_ than a fling at this point, and everyone currently in the bar knew it.

“Good. Bring a change of clothes.” James set an Old Fashioned on the bar between them and leaned over to drop a kiss on John’s lips.

John smiled against James’ mouth at the invitation to stay the night once again. “Mmm, gladly.”


	7. Saturday, February 10th (Day One)

"Thanks again for a lovely night."

"My pleasure," James replied, charmed once again by how sweet and shy John was in the mornings. He brushed John's hair away from his face so he could look into those gorgeous blue eyes, and smiled fondly. In a move that tugged at James' heart hard enough to surprise him, John turned his head slightly to kiss James' palm.

_Fuck, this pup was habit forming, and James was a goner._

"Maybe I'll see you later?" John's voice and face were adorably hopeful.

James had no power — or inclination — to disappoint him. "Yes please. Come by The Frig early, before I'm too busy."

"Yes, good. I love watching you work."

"I bet you say that to all the bartenders," James quipped as his skin flushed pink.

"Nope. Just you." John raised up on his tiptoes and kissed James' nose, an enchanting gesture that had James chuckling as he wrapped his arms around John for a real goodbye kiss — one that left them both a little breathless.

John giggled slightly as he pulled away. "I gotta  _go,_ hon. See you later."

James nodded, hating to see him leave. He stood on the back steps, watched as John scooted away in the bright sun, then headed into the kitchen with a goofy grin on his face. It was a fine morning and the day was wide open until evening.

As James filled his favorite mug with steaming coffee Hal cleared his throat. “Are you done yet?”

“Sorry?” James turned to look at his partner over the rim of his coffee cup.

Hal was looking at his bowl of oatmeal. He didn’t really like oatmeal but his cardiologist had limited his intake of eggs and bacon. “Five nights in a row is a new record. Did you finally manage to get him out of your system this time?”

James frowned. “No? I’m not—”

“Babe, you rarely fuck someone more than three times, let alone five. Especially not on consecutive nights.”

Hal stirred his oatmeal but didn’t eat any. He seemed exceptionally calm. Worryingly so. James’ frown deepened.

_He’d been keeping count? What was this exactly?_

“I really like him. Is that going to be a problem?”

The silence before Hal spoke raised James’ blood pressure. “It could be.”

More stirring.

James raised his eyebrows, mildly offended. “Oh really? Do tell.”

“I just feel like this requires some negotiation.”

“We did that. You were fine with it.” Heat climbed James’ neck as though he was chin-deep in a hot tub.

“I was fine with what we’ve done before, when you took someone pretty home because you were amused or attracted or bored and wanted a plaything. This...”

“Is more like what you did to me with Billy.”

Hal finally looked up from his oatmeal. “Oh, I see. This is payback.” He started stirring more vigorously. “Lovely. Sort of long to wait for that, don’t you think? Or have you been looking all this time for the right person to use?”

That stopped James cold. “What? No, of course not. Babe...” He sat down at the kitchen table across from Hal and rested a hand on the formica near his. “I’m sorry I mentioned Billy. This is not that. And I wouldn’t purposefully try to hurt you this way. Not anymore.”

A shrug was better than nothing, but it didn’t ease James’ mind. “Old patterns, my love.” Hal said, then looked up with an apologetic squint.

Nodding, James cupped his hand over the back of Hal’s. “I love you. I’m in this for the long haul. We’ve worked hard for where we are now and I don’t want to jeopardize that. But.”

Hal sighed and pushed his oatmeal away, then reached out for James’ other hand. “But you want him, this John. Like I wanted Billy.”

James scrunched up his nose but gave a sideways nod. “Not exactly like Billy, but effectively, yes.”

“But I’m an old dog and can’t pull in a new trick every other night to appease my jealousy like you did.”

“I mean, that wasn’t...” At Hal’s raised eyebrows, James capitulated. “All right, fine. Yes. Though if that was what you needed you could pay...”

“I can’t. Not as the owner of The Frig. The gossip mill would spin out of control with that sort of info.” Hal gave him that flat smile that meant he knew he was right and James conceded the point.

“And Billy...?”

“That train has left.”

James nodded, frowning. “Then what?”

Hal looked like he did when he had to tell James they couldn't afford the ingredients for all the cocktail specials James had come up with. He squeezed James' hands and took a deep breath before speaking clearly and calmly, as if he'd practiced it. “I need some time to feel safe and grounded in this relationship, to really believe again what I used to know: that you won't leave me for him."

“Of course I won't. But sure, I'm happy to reassure you.”

Hal squinted at him in a way that was nearly a grimace. “But I need to have your _full_ attention that whole time.”

"You know that you're my priority always, hon."

"I can _tell_ myself that 'til the cows come home, but if you're in bed with that pretty boy every night for a week instead of with me..."

"Not a _full_ week," James said self-consciously. He hadn't thought through how much he ended up wanting John each evening, and he hadn't yet found the self control to keep from texting him to come over.

"Last night you didn't even check in. You just didn't come to bed, and this morning I see that curly-haired beauty in our kitchen for the _fifth_ time in a row. It was a lot to take, James."

"But I texted—"

"After I'd gone to sleep. I'm not asking for a check-in every single time, but I thought for sure you'd come to me last night, especially since it was Friday night, and you gave me no hint that you wouldn't. I haven't held you for days, Jamie."

"We spent all weekend together. You even fucked me Monday morning."

"And it's _Saturday._ You've fucked John Silver five times since then."

“Actually, I’ve fucked him three times and he..."

James trailed off, knowing he'd made a mistake. Not only did Hal specifically not want details but James almost never let his conquests enter him in that way. It wasn't a rule or anything, he just didn't tend to trust his more casual partners like that. Which meant James hadn't been fucked by anyone but Hal and Thomas in years.

Until John.

"What did you say?" Hal pulled his hands away and folded them on the table. Very calm, and very quiet.

James shivered. "Nothing. He just has a rule about cisdudes where they can't enter him until he's entered them. And I really wanted to fuck his adorable ass."

It was close enough to the truth that James didn't feel bad for saying it, but there had been many reasons why he'd let John fuck him and the promise of reciprocity had been the least of them.

"So you let him fuck you."

James shrug-nodded.

" _Twice_." The over-enunciation of the word dripped ice cold anger, which was so much scarier than James' in-the-heat-of-the-moment rageful outbursts.

"He's good at it." James’ voice was much smaller to his ears than normal, even though he wasn't apologizing or making excuses. But neither was he going to correct Hal for accuracy by mentioning it was more than twice. He was allowed to do what he wanted as long as it wasn't hurting anyone, but he hadn’t been thinking much this week about whether he’d been following that guideline.  

"James."

Hal didn't say anything more. He didn't need to. The resignation in his voice and body made it clear how hurt he was. Also, he'd said _James,_ not Jamie or babe or any of the plethora of other endearments they used.

James' heart clenched painfully in his chest. He wanted to reach out for Hal's hand but wouldn't be able to stomach a refusal.

"I'm sorry. I hurt you with my negligence and I won't do it again. I promise to be less distracted and more communicative, and to take time just for us to show you how much you mean to me as I move forward with this new thing with John."

"Thank you, hon." Hal smiled fondly and patted James' hand, still resting on the table. Then, as he looked at their stacked hands, his brow furrowed.

His voice held more weight as he continued. "But what I need from you is a bit more than just promises. Like I said, I need to feel secure again. I want a week with your _undivided_ attention. No John, no Thomas, no other Pretty Young Things. Just you and me."

_Oh shit._

Hal watched as James’ face fell. He must have looked as stricken as he felt because the look in Hal's eyes flashed anger for a moment, then morphed directly into worry.

"A _week?_ " James couldn't help it. A full week sounded like punishment.

"Five days, at least? The same number you just had with John."

James took a slow, deep breath, considering the import of this request. Hal wouldn't make it if he didn't need the time and attention.

_But Christ._

Hal spoke gently, almost cautiously, "After five days we can work out what this thing with John will look like. I promise that by then I will be able to be reasonable about things. I'm just not there yet."

James paused, looking into his partner’s eyes. He’d seen every last emotion in them over the years, but this particular mix of fear and hope felt like a new combination. It twisted his gut into a knot. "Of course,” he said. “Whatever you need."

Speaking those words took effort, but in the long run James knew it was the truth. He wanted this life with Hal Gates to last as long as they possibly could manage, and five days without John Silver wasn't going to kill him.

However, it was not a small ask, especially if John got bored of waiting for him. John had every right to walk away from this thing once it got complicated, but James was going to have a hard time if that was the result of giving Hal his peace of mind back.

James had catered to Hal's whim when he'd fallen for Billy. That was the first time in their relationship they’d had to make real allowances for someone else. Every other time they’d gone outside the relationship, it had just been a fling.

(Except Thomas, but he didn’t count because he predated even Hal. Thomas had never counted because he was inherently different.)

James had spent the last couple years flattering himself that he’d been the perfect partner — that he’d been absolutely fine with letting Hal explore a committed relationship outside their primary one. In reality, when it started, he’d quietly seethed for a good long while, had fantasized about tragic accidental deaths that could befall Billy, and had been a bit reckless with his suddenly voracious diet of young, fit, fuck-buddies to distract him from his jealousy.

However. He had never set a boundary that would have limited Hal's time with or enjoyment of Billy, even if that boy’s physique alone had turned James into a green-eyed monster from the very start.

In retrospect, he should have expressed more of his feelings, not to guilt Hal into anything, but just so they could talk things through better. James was good at demanding attention when he needed it, so that helped them keep their balance, but he didn't cope with his emotions in healthy ways. At least he managed to not make those emotions Hal's problem.

Not that Hal was doing that now. James recognized that he had fucked up and needed to mend his primary relationship before going forward with a new one, but he was currently at the height of excitement about his new lover and had zero desire to slow down — let alone stop — whatever ride he was currently on. The John Silver Is An Incredible Lover ride, apparently.

And yet, if he didn't want his primary relationship and the most fulfilling parts of his life to come crashing down around his ears, he needed to slam on the brakes of that ride and convince the other passenger to wait while he worked to keep his house in order for a bit.

_Fucking hell._

 

~~

 

"You what?" John sounded more confused than affronted, at least for the moment.

"I need to put this thing on hold for a few days. Only five, though."

_"Why?"_

It was a fair question, but James hated to fully answer it. He might have felt like throwing Hal under the bus on this whole thing, but he himself was just as much at fault — if fault was even the right term.

"I’ve let my relationship with Hal suffer this week, and I need to repair it."

"And after these five days...?"

"If all goes well, we carry on as before. Or mostly as before. I should spend a couple nights a week in Hal's bed, I think."

"And how often with Thomas? And how often with a new pup? What exact percentage of your time will I get, going forward?" John seemed to be a cross between joking and irate, landing very near sardonic.

"Please, John. I'm trying to salvage my primary partnership."

"I knew I shouldn't have gotten involved with a married man," John muttered, walking away from the bar.

“I’m not—” James hurried to the pass-through and raised that section of the bar on its hinges so he could get to John.

"Hey, don't. Don't, _please._ This is nothing but a pause button on something I very much want to continue."

When James got close, John backed up. “And how many more times will that button be pressed in the future? Should I expect regular time off? Do I get compensated in some way for periodically being put on mandatory furlough?”

There was that anger again, the kind that John only ever glanced off of and tried to push far away from himself. He seemed to shove past anger, aiming for humor and missing by a mile, to land on something akin to parody. It was like he was making fun of the anger he was feeling as he was feeling it, causing the whole situation to feel like a farce.

James still saw it as a tragedy, because this was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

“I’ll make it up to you however you want, pup,” he said in a low voice, aiming for seductive but clearly missing.

John was still pissed. “You plan on breaking up with me for a few days every time your ‘Papa Bear’ gets grumpy? Is that how this works?”

James moved closer, hands out, placatingly. “That’s not what this is.”

“That’s _exactly_ what this is.” John stood his ground and held up his own hands at chest height. The gesture worked to keep James at bay as surely as if he’d been pushed. The fact that John didn’t want James to touch him felt like a knife to the chest. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

A sigh from deep inside James expanded and contracted his entire torso. He’d brought this upon himself, after all. Time to pay for his folly.

“I neglected my primary partner this week. It was wrong of me to do so. I need to concentrate on him right now and then we can find a better balance moving forward. I really hope you’ll still want me then, but I’ll understand if you don’t.”

"So I'm just... left to my own devices for a week? A ‘free bitch’, if you will?"

" _Five days._ But yeah. I can't ask you to wait for me, but I hope you'll consider taking me back the middle of next week." He knew he was grimacing, but it physically pained him to let John go like this.

John’s face was suddenly inches from James’, making his heart trip against his ribcage. “You are a _damned lucky bastard_ that I like fucking you so much.” With his anger spent, he smiled rakishy, licking his plush lips. “And I’ll enjoy thinking of ways you can make it up to me next weekend.”

“Atta boy,” James felt his lips pull into a smug smile. “Anything you want.”

“Oh believe me, _I know._ And I plan on making you pine for it every fucking day.”

_Jesus._

James took a deep gulp of air. “John...”

This hiatus wasn’t going to do what it needed to if James was twisted up over John teasing him the whole time. He really needed to focus on Hal to make things work. But god _dammit,_ he wanted to hear the things John would come up with. His cock twitched just thinking about options.

“Yes, kitten?” John whispered.

James clenched his teeth to keep down the growl that was crawling up his throat. When it was safe to speak, he muttered, “Not here, you promised.”

“Never in earshot of anyone else, I swear,” John breathed into James’ hair.

They were so close it was astonishing that they weren’t touching. The heat of John’s body enveloped James and he didn’t want to step away, but he really needed to.

_In just a second._

“The whole point of this is to not be so distracted by you that I ignore Hal, so if you’re going to tease, _please,_ for my sanity, limit it to one time a day.”

“Well, I’ll just have to make each one count, won’t I?” John purred.

“I’m walking away now,” James said without any conviction at all. He felt rooted to the spot, not wanting to give up this delicious intimacy even for a few minutes, let alone five days.

“Hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave...” John nudged James, and he finally moved back behind the bar to finish setting up for the evening. It was still early but a few people seemed ready for him to take their orders. At least two of them looked as though they’d enjoyed witnessing the little scene that had just played out.

James ducked his head and worked quickly, blushing furiously, especially when he caught John being very unsubtle about staring at his ass.

_God dammit this was going to be a long fucking five days._

 

~~

 

“Can you believe?” John said in his best Jonathan VanNess impersonation, clearly trying to make light of the situation to get Thomas to laugh.

He was, however, _not_ laughing.

_God, that big gay bear was a fucking fool._

Thomas gave John his Very Arched Eyebrow look. “Hal is the best thing to happen to James since Yours Truly, but that man is a complete dunce sometimes. ProTip: this is _not_ how you keep James Flint in your life.”

John's eyebrows suddenly looked very hopeful. Thomas backpedaled before he gave that boy any ideas. "Though, to be fair, Hal Gates is the only man to ever tame our wild ginger bastard. Kudos to him for that." He raised his glass and took a very small sip. John's news had thrown him for a loop and he was less inclined to get sloshed than he'd been 20 minutes ago.

"Fair, but you've been in James' life for longer, so I feel like you would know." John's voice was more ingratiating than Thomas would have liked it to be.

"We found our equilibrium early, and it mostly consisted of neither of us asking for more than the other one could give."

"Which was...?"

"Nosy," Thomas said primly. John gave Thomas that adorable puppy-dog look and he relented. "For James it was monogamy, and for me it was cohabitation."

Knowing better than to give John anything more than the very stripped down version of the first decade of his and James' relationship, Thomas withheld many facts with that statement, though he wasn't being particularly untruthful. At least not if you squinted.

"And is Hal asking for more than James can give?" John asked, his drink paused halfway to his mouth.

Thomas refused to answer that question because John was the one asking it. If Hal had been the one to ask, Thomas would have told him to be very careful because he was on the edge of the abyss and might not know it.

Thomas glanced over at James, who was behind the bar and busy, but was nonetheless keeping an eye on the two of them.

"You know, sweetheart," Thomas mused, "Don't push on this. Let it play out the way James has asked it to and see what happens."

"I was thinking the same thing, but I plan on playing it to the hilt."

"What on earth does that mean?" Thomas didn't actually want to know, but he knew fishing when he heard it.

"He broke up with me. For five days, sure, but I'm a free agent again. And I was thinking I'd take advantage of that. You know, take you up on your offer..."

Thomas felt heat creep up his neck and was unable to tell if it was arousal or embarrassment. No, not embarrassment, but dread. He was finally getting something he’d shamelessly wanted for a while, but in a way that felt like it was setting them all up for disaster.

He turned away from John for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts and rein in his emotions. It didn’t quite work. Only one thing was running through his head:

_Lord, this was going to get messy._

 

~~

 

“Well?” John couldn't help waggling his eyebrows.

“Well what, darling?” Thomas’ attention was on James, behind the bar, smiling at some young boy. John was actively trying to ignore that whole scene playing out, and Thomas’ preoccupation wasn't helping.

“How about it?” He leaned in, his voice as seductive as he could make it this early in the evening.

“Hmm?”

Thomas finally looked back at John when he placed his hand on Thomas’ knee. He blinked, then looked down, then back at John, and blinked again, twice, very deliberately. “Sorry, what was it you wanted?”

“You.”

“You sure about that?” Thomas cocked his head to the side as John balked, at a loss. “You sure it's not that you just want someone to give you attention while James sorts himself out?”

John shrugged, defensive. This was not how seducing Thomas was supposed to go. “Would that be so wrong?”

“It would if you chose me specifically because you're hoping to hurt him, even just a little bit.”

“Do you think it would hurt him? If we...” John couldn’t tell whether he did or didn’t like that idea. Everything about this poly stuff was new and he was currently hurting, himself, so...

“I think it's uncouth to not ask him how he feels about it.” Thomas spoke gently but his words still felt like a reprimand.

“I don't need his permission, and _you_ clearly don't—”

“I never mentioned permission, but taking your partner's feelings into consideration when going outside the relationship is necessary in all this."

“It's not really a _relationship...”_

“Why? Because it's poly? If I asked James right now, would he agree that you aren't still in the middle of something?”

Thomas seemed to be channeling a school marm, and John was feeling like the bad pupil. In a not at all sexy way. It caused him to deflect and misdirect.

“Right _now_ he's actively _not_ dating me and trying to get into the pants of that twink in the tank top, soooo...”

“There are three twinks in tank tops in the bar at the moment; you'll have to be more specific,” Thomas said without breaking eye contact with John. “And James is being good-natured because it's early in the evening and he still has the time to solicit good tips. Pretty rich boys tip very well when they find their server attractive. He doesn't want any of them, John. He's looked over to our table seven times in the last five minutes, and both of our drinks are nearly full.”

John's anger deflated, conceding to Thomas’ wisdom, though he wasn't ready to give up his position. “Who says that's for me? He could be looking at you.”

“He is, but only because he can read my body language better and is hoping to find a hint as to what we're talking about.”

John rolled his eyes and muttered, “What else would we be talking about but him?”

Thomas very deliberately moved closer to John, letting the hand that was still resting on his knee slide up his thigh a couple inches. He leaned in with a daring smirk and John smiled rakishly back, his eyes drawn to Thomas’ enticing lips.

_A little taste couldn’t hurt, right?_

Thomas’ smirk blossomed into a devilish grin and John leaned further in. His mouth was nearly in Thomas’ ear when he murmured, “I thought you didn't want me to make him jealous...”

“I just want you to know what you're doing, pup.” Thomas leaned back and brushed the tip of his finger down the tip of John's nose, then cut his eyes instructively over toward the bar.

John followed his gaze but couldn't find James...

...until he was eight feet from them, drinks in hand.

The fact that they had barely touched their first drinks didn't deter him, he just set the second round right next to the first. “They're on me.” He waved at the glasses like he was glad to get rid of them, then looked expectantly at Thomas for a long moment.

Thomas just looked at John as if saying ‘this is what you get when playing with fire’.

_Fire signs. Right._

John wanted to rest his forehead on the table. Instead, he sighed and looked up at James, pretending he was adult enough for this. “Can you join us for a minute?”

 

~~

 

For his part, John handled himself like an adult. Thomas was impressed. If it was true that this was his first time in a poly relationship, then he’d either read up on things or he had good instincts.

James, of course, acted like normal — denying his jealousy, being indifferent and gracious — but Thomas wasn't fooled, and reminded himself he had to tread lightly here.

“Thomas and I were just talking about you,” John said with a charming, if slightly stiff, smile. He indicated a chair and James only hesitated a moment before sitting in it, his cheeks pink. “We were wondering if it would be... how you would feel if...” he glanced at Thomas for what looked like help and Thomas opened his mouth to rescue the situation, but John shook his head impatiently and tried again.

“You said I could play the field."

James took a moment, then spoke cautiously. “I did.”

"You also said early on that I was welcome to Thomas, if I wanted him.”

Letting out a little, uncomfortable laugh, James responded with magnanimity. "True."

“Did you mean it? That you'd be okay with that?”

It took a moment after James had opened his mouth for the words to come out. “That was before Hal asked... what he asked of me. Of us.” He gestured to John with an apologetic wince.

It wasn't Thomas’ place to mention to either of them that Hal Gates was being unreasonable with his request — that the boundary he’d set was a fucking farce and it was going to backfire on him — especially since he knew James was well aware and was still trying to make the best of it. Saying it out loud would only hurt their chances of surviving the situation intact.

But God, did he want to just lay it all out there.

John, thankfully, was focusing on James and didn’t notice Thomas biting his lip to stay quiet.

“Does that change things?” There was a slight tinge of defiance in John's voice that Thomas wished wasn’t there.

James looked from John to Thomas and back. “Are you wanting... Tonight?”

“I'm not asking permission, I just want...” John rested a hand on James’ forearm. “I don't want to hurt you.”

James moved his arm away, but not in anger. He seemed to be hurt but bearing it because he wanted to be the adult in the situation.

_Poor Jamie._

“Intention doesn’t guarantee result,” James said, possibly unintentionally quoting something Thomas had told him years ago.

“True, but maybe conversation can?” John’s eyes held a sweetness Thomas had never seen in them before.

He was an intensely charming fellow, and with very little effort could have anyone he liked eating out of his hand, but Thomas had yet to see him with any skin in the game. John seemed to treat every flirtation, every conquest as just that — a game. But whatever Thomas was witnessing right now was not that. Thankfully.

In the full light of John’s warm gaze, James looked as though he was starting to melt a bit.

_God, Jamie was in trouble._

It felt to Thomas like the right time to speak up.

“We’ve shared someone before, Jamie. It’s not changing anyone’s relationship but mine and John’s.”

“I know,” James growled, eyes now on the table. He was dipping a finger in the ring of water at the base of John’s glass — the first one, now very watered down.

“It’s not a competition, either.”

James’ eyes cut sharply to Thomas’, his stare hard, cold. “Oh no?”

“Not anymore. We’re too old for that now, aren’t we?”

“One hopes...” The tone in James’ voice sounded more like self-censure than accusation, and Thomas breathed a slow sigh of relief.

John seemed to be vibrating, overdue to speak. At Thomas’ nod, he blurted out, “I'm not asking for anything unreasonable, right?" It seemed he was both defending himself and checking in.

James shook his head, eyes back on the table. “No, not really. It’s only fair that you have someone else since I have Hal.”

“And Thomas, but who’s counting?” John muttered.

Thomas hushed him and said, “We’re all adults here; we can do this right.”

Nodding, James murmured “Thanks for checking in,” and placed a gentle hand on John’s shoulder as he stood to head back to the bar.

Thomas would have to assess James’ feelings about this sometime soon. Possibly not before he left with John, though.

Because of course he was taking the pretty curly-haired menace home. That had been a given the moment John brought it up.

And not just because Thomas had wanted him since he’d debuted his drag persona at Max’s, wowing the audience. If John was going to go after someone else during his time off from James, Thomas was clearly the best man for the job. He was pretty sure James could see that from a mile away and would be grateful when he stopped sulking.

Someone needed to keep these two idiots from blowing everyone’s chance at happiness, and if it required fucking them silly for them to see that, well... Thomas was willing to make that sacrifice.

 

~~

 

“You’re quiet, tonight.” Hal’s voice sounded mild enough, but his eyes were sharp.

James raised his eyebrows from their furrow and smiled at his partner. “I’m here, I promise.”

“Sort of. I know this is hard, but please don’t—”

“I’m not missing John — not really. I’m just thinking about the fact that Thomas took him home.”

“He what?” Hal stopped massaging James’ foot and sat up straighter on his end of the couch. “Why the fuck would he—”

“John is free to do what he likes. He could have had Thomas at any time, really, but now that he’s not preoccupied...”

“No, I meant Thomas. What is _he_ thinking?” Hal looked legitimately upset, possibly angry.

James nudged his belly with a toe. “It’s fine. He was thinking it’s better to keep that little firecracker in the family, I think. Honestly, I’m a hell of a lot less worried than if John had run straight into Jack’s or, God forbid, _Charles’_ arms.” He couldn’t help make a face at that. Hal chuckled his agreement.

“He’s young, so I guess there’s no chance that he’d just cool his heels for a week?”

“I’m pretty sure telling John Silver he can’t have something is a surefire way to get him to want it desperately. And no, he has no qualms about getting it from the most convenient source.”

James winced as an image of John and Thomas in bed together — a sight he could very easily construct with all the necessary component parts — flashed before his vision. A stab of jealousy caught him in the pit of his stomach, but he eased it out with the knowledge that Thomas really was the only person alive he trusted in that position. Other than himself, of course.

And he had to admit they’d have fun together.

He wondered if being the lover of both James and Thomas was what John had been angling for all along. Or maybe they were only two of a much larger goal...

Trying not to be saddened by the idea that he was just one stop along John’s tour of Frigate beds, James hauled Hal’s leg onto his lap and started rubbing his calf muscle. The moan that followed was involuntary and voluble.

At least it started out as a reaction to James’ work. It morphed into an inviting noise as James’ hand moved up past the knee, and landed squarely in aroused territory when he reached Hal’s inner thigh.

A roguish smile spread James’ lips as his hand slipped into the leg of Hal’s boxers and pinched and stroked and teased.

“That’s right, love. Give Papa Bear some needed attention.” Hal spread his legs and James crawled over to his lap, pushing his fat, half-hard cock out the front hole of his boxers and giving it a lavish lick, root to tip. Hal let out another moan and settled in as James started to nibble and kiss his purple head, stroking the shaft lightly, teasingly with his fingers.

“Better than that young pup’s isn’t it?” Hal hissed at the pressure of James’ tongue.

James hummed, his mouth around the head, but didn’t answer. It was different, but not inherently better. Silicone had its challenges, but that didn’t mean Hal’s flesh cock won out, since the dick itself was only a small part of the overall experience. Sucking off John was a new and brilliant delight which James very much enjoyed, but giving Hal head was like comfort food.

He loved coming back to this, over and over, how familiar and unremarkable it was. They’d done variations on this theme a thousand times and James would never tire of it. Hal’s musky scent, the feel of his big hands on the back of James’ head carding through his loose hair, the familiar tastes and textures, their habitual actions and reactions, they all combined to soothe James in a way very few things could.

Hal was home.

And coming home to this was a deep and satisfying joy, no matter how novel another lover might be.

“Mmmf. I’ve missed you, lad. Your perfect mouth...”

Hal lapsed into silence punctuated with more and more frequent grunts as James paid tribute to his partner’s thick, heavy cock, licking and sucking and stretching his lips wide to swallow as much of it down as he could.

“Oh, babe. You can go deeper than that. Come on, my sweet boy...” Hal pressed none too gently on the back of James’ skull, and James did his best to open his throat to take him all the way. It was a rare thing that he managed to get his lips down around the base but he didn’t blame Hal for wanting the extra effort tonight.

If only his throat wasn’t sore from taking John’s silicone too deep every night this week.

He whimpered and gagged and Hal let him up, tsking and crooning and cupping his jaw. “My poor baby can’t take Papa’s big dick anymore? You need to keep in practice, love. Come on, one more time for me. Then I’ll finger you open, make sure you’re nice and loose for old Hal. You want to be able to take me, don’t you?”

James nodded, his jaw still held in Hal’s meaty hand. Fuck, he wanted this — there was nothing else like it. Tears sprung to his eyes at the thought of losing it. “Please. Please...”

“All right, honey. I got you. Come and finish sucking me, then I’ll stretch you wide.”

“No, come inside me. I need...”

Hal chuckled darkly. “You miss getting it raw, don’t you? My come dripping out your ass.” James whimpered at the thought. “Okay, okay. I’ll breed my honeypie real good. Let me get my fingers in you now and you can suck me to hardness again before I fuck that beautiful, greedy hole of yours.”

_Yes. Yes._

James didn’t have the wherewithal to say it out loud but he knew Hal could hear him anyway.

_Always yes._

 

~~

 

“You think he’s—”

“Hush, baby boy. If you’re here with me, be _with me,_ not him.”

John turned to look at Thomas with a smile as his apology. It was enough.

He stalked over to Thomas, shucking off his coat as he did, a predatory look on his face. “Did I tell you about my rule yet?”

Thomas hummed noncommittally as he reached out to pull John closer. He’d wasn’t about to tell John that he'd heard about it from James. “You might have mentioned it, but tell me again.”

“To be honest, I have quite a few, but the first one is: you don’t get to enter me until I’ve entered you.” John settled his pelvis against Thomas’ thigh and stroked Thomas' chest just below the V of his collar.

“Mmm, intriguing. Is that for every orifice? Am I sucking you off first as well? Or...” Thomas gently guided John’s hand down his torso and below his belt, maneuvering it so that John’s palm was cupping the sizable bulge in Thomas’ trousers.

John made a soft noise, his mouth a perfect O of surprise, his eyes registering delight and a special sort of greed.

Thomas rejoiced to see it. An enthusiastic partner was leagues better than a technically brilliant one. Both, however, was a truly rare treasure.

“Well, yeah. I see your point... I suppose I could start there, take the edge off for you before I fuck you.” John’s hands were already busy undoing Thomas’ belt.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, pup. I haven’t said you can fuck me yet.”

“You will,” John murmured as he lowered himself to his knees and pulled a condom out of his pocket.

His mouth was so good Thomas quickly changed his tune.

Thomas Hamilton had spent much of the last two and a half decades both giving and receiving head. He was no stranger to the roller coaster that was a good blowjob. In fact, he would argue he was one of two experts in town on this exact subject, and to be fair, his sample size was large enough to make such a claim.

And yet.

John Silver was able to take him completely apart in three minutes flat. It was an impressive feat to say the least, and Thomas, once he got his breath and eyesight back, was more than willing to acknowledge that.

“Christ, babydoll, that was... _fuck._ How did you even...? Come here and let me—”

He dragged John up by a large hank of hair at the back of his head — the one that Thomas had held onto for dear life — and snogged the fuck out of him.

“Yeah? Good?” John panted as he pulled away, still out of breath from the blowjob, let alone the kiss.

Thomas laughed. “Good? Honey, they should give you a medal for that. How are you so perfect?”

John’s guilty smile looked good on him, though Thomas would never tell him that. “I’m a quick study?”

“You didn’t figure all of that out on the fly, not that _fast_.”

“No... I took what I learned from how James sucked me, and what he liked when I blew him, and made an educated guess.”

At least he had the decency to sound sheepish about it.

Thomas tugged John’s hair for being a perfect little snot and muttered, “Good guess.”

“You said you were his first teacher, so it seemed like a well-calculated risk...” Thomas harrumphed and started to put himself back together. “You’re not mad, are you Tommy?”

“It’s _Tammy_ to you, pup,” he said automatically. Then he stroked John’s cheek and neck, adding softly. “And no, I’m not mad. Shocked? Yes. Angry? Hell no.”

“So...” John wheedled as Thomas tucked himself in his pants and reevaluated his life. “You think you’ll let me fuck you now?”

“Oh my god, pup. One, calm the fuck down and let a man breathe. And two, if you wield your dick like you do your tongue you can fuck the daylights out of me and I’ll applaud you for days.”

John did a little hip-shaking dance in triumph, as if he’d just passed an audition — which, Thomas had to admit, he sort of had.

“Don’t you dare take a bow until after I've come a second time, you little shit,” Thomas said, his voice dripping with fondness.

With a delighted laugh, John began stripping off his clothes, leaving a trail of them on the floor to Thomas’ bed.

When he ended up kneeling on the mattress in nothing but an undershirt, his bright blue cock peeking out from under the hem, his beautiful pale ass on display, and looked coyly over his shoulder, Thomas felt himself truly give in.

This pup was _not_ to be leashed.

And, God forgive him, Thomas was _so_ into it.


	8. Sunday, February 11th (Day Two)

**John Silver:** Fun fact I learned last night: Thomas makes the most high-pitched sound when he comes.

 **James Flint:** I learned that literally 25 years ago.

 **John Silver:** Another fun fact: I can make him come with my mouth in just under 3 minutes.  
**John Silver:** Also he grips my hair tighter than you.  
**John Silver:** And sucks harder.

 **James Flint:** Enough.

 **John Silver:** Are you hard yet? 🍆

 **James Flint:** I’m not answering that. You get one shot at teasing me a day. That was four.

 **John Silver:** It was one attempt split into four texts.  
**John Silver:** Okay, five texts.

 **James Flint:** Well no more until tomorrow, please. I have to work.

 **John Silver:** I’ll come by. With Thomas.

 **James Flint:** If you’re coming to try to make me jealous, don’t bother.

 **John Silver:** Nope. I just like watching you blush when he and I flirt.

 **James Flint:** John, please. I don’t need the distraction.

 **John Silver:** But watching you bartend gets us both in the mood.

 **James Flint:** John. Stop.  
**James Flint:** Don’t make me block you until the middle of next week.

 **John Silver:** You wouldn’t! 😢

 **James Flint:** I won’t, but only if you behave.

 **John Silver: 😤** Fine. Ttyl.

 **James Flint:** Tomorrow.

 

[LATER]

 

 **John Silver:** What if you got back at me by telling me about your nights with Hal?

 **James Flint:** Absolutely Not.

 **John Silver:** What about what it’s like with Thomas?

 **James Flint:** You know that firsthand.

 **John Silver:** I don’t know what it’s like for You and Him.   
**John Silver:** Not yet.  
**John Silver:** Not until you tell me.

 **James Flint:** Ask HIM if you need to know. He might tell you while he’s fucking you.

 **John Silver:** Or while I’m fucking him. Which would you rather think about?

 **James Flint:** Hal.

 **John Silver:** So tell me about that! *chinhands*

 **James Flint:** I’ve already told you enough.

 **John Silver:** All I know is that he’s a lot thicker than my current cocks.  
**John Silver:** What if I bought a new one?

 **James Flint:** John, stop. This is not a game. I have to go. Talk to you TOMORROW.

 **John Silver:** Okay, Okay.  
**John Silver:** Good night, Jamie. Xo

 **James Flint:** Good night, pup. <3

 

~~

 

 **JamiePants:** Well?

 **T.Hammy:** Well what?

 **JamiePants:** “The Goss” please.

 **T.Hammy:** I don’t kiss and tell, darling. <3

 **JamiePants:**  Yes you do.  
**JamiePants:** To me you do.

 **T.Hammy:** Is this a form of self-harm?

 **JamiePants:** What, asking for details?

 **T.Hammy:** Y

 **JamiePants:** Feels more like life-support.

 **T.Hammy:** Are you that addicted?

 **JamiePants:** It’s not that, I just... you know I’m not built for this.

 **T.Hammy:** I honestly think Hal’s never done a stupider thing in his life than limiting you like this.

 **JamiePants:** I know you do. <3  
**JamiePants:** Please, one taste?

 **T.Hammy:** He’s incredible, Jamie.

 **JamiePants:** I know, right?

 **T.Hammy:** He’s the holy grail of enthusiasm and technique.  
**T.Hammy:** Can I keep him?

 **JamiePants:** Will he be kept?

 **T.Hammy:** IDK  
**T.Hammy:** He’s in no way over you, BTW.  
**T.Hammy:** You have nothing to worry about there.

 **JamiePants:** The hiatus isn’t even half over.

 **T.Hammy:** Doesn’t matter. He’ll be there when it is.

 **JamiePants:** <3

 **T.Hammy:** He fucked me so good I saw stars.  
**T.Hammy:** And he may have that rule but he is still Very Eager to get fucked.  
**T.Hammy:** And his cock...

 **JamiePants:** Which one?

 **T.Hammy:** Blue silicone. Hefty. Long.

 **JamiePants:** Did he choke you with it?

 **T.Hammy:** He tried, but I’m a lady. When I suck a man I want to do it on my own terms.

 **JamiePants:** Don’t I know it. :P

 **T.Hammy:** I bet the back of Your throat is sore though, huh? ;)

 **JamiePants:** Hush, you.

 **T.Hammy:** :’D  
**T.Hammy:** BTW did you notice he tears up when he comes?

 **JamiePants:** Yeah. It’s A Lot.

 **T.Hammy:** I know, babydoll. Be careful with this one.

 **JamiePants:** It might be too late.

 **T.Hammy:** <3


	9. Monday, February 12th (Day Three)

_Oh fucking hell, Hal’s cock was big._

James never forgot that fact, but still, every time Hal entered him it was _A Lot_ to take.

The very first time it happened, he’d nearly passed out.

Back then, James had fucked guys occasionally but didn’t really think of himself as queer. He fucked and loved women after all. He and Thomas had had an understanding, and sometimes when he’d gotten that specific itch, he’d gone to Thomas to get fucked. But that had been different. That was _Thomas._ With anyone else, he’d topped.

And then Hal had come along, a truly adult manly man who’d wanted James to fuck him. Meeting someone who was the opposite of some young fem twink who wanted to bottom and wasn't ashamed of it kinda made James’ head explode. He could be that, too, if he wanted. And he did.

And so, after he’d fucked Hal a number of times, he’d let it be known that he wanted Hal to fuck him. And Hal had been hesitant but willing, and they’d gotten to work. James had needed a lot of time and attention to get ready. Hal had used a shit-ton of lube and pushed in as slowly and gently as possible but James had had to breathe through the stretch and the pain so much that he’d nearly hyperventilated and passed out. He was a stubborn fuck so he’d stuck with it, and eventually he’d managed to take the whole thing, centimeter by centimeter, but he’d admit he shed not a few tears in the process.

Because _Fuck,_ it was big _._ And dear God there was absolutely nothing like being that full.

The term ‘size queen’ was not one James personally identified with, as he hadn’t become a snob or anything. He still liked smaller dicks, but seriously. Hal’s fucking huge cock was amazing.

And riding it was an experience.

At the moment he was just sitting on it, as he was still adjusting to the pressure of having all of it inside him. His hands were splayed across Hal’s belly and he was breathing slowly and steadily, a sheen of sweat covering his body. Hal grunted, causing his dick to inch further inside, and James cursed under his breath.

Hal caressed his arms and thighs — any thing he could reach — a comforting gesture that had become habit and which James appreciated to keep him grounded in his full body, not just the single point of pleasure/pain.

Finally, he was ready to move. He nodded and Hal grabbed hold of his haunches as James started canting his hips, rocking back and forth just a little bit. It was all the sensation he could take at the moment, though he’d work his way up to more.

“Fuck I’m not used to this,” James gasped, eyes shut. "Especially not after you wrecked me Saturday."

Hal huffed a tight laugh, trying to stay still. “Remember when we first started fucking and your ass was sore for like a month? You wouldn’t stop taking all of me at once — you were addicted to the fullness — but you never gave your poor hole time to recover.”

“I couldn’t sit down for the first week.” James chuckled, and Hal joined in.

“And then you were too impatient to let me go slow enough to not hurt you, so I had to just plug you up to keep you stretched out...”

James started rocking a little harder, letting Hal’s cock slide in and out of him a bit more. The drag of it inside him was delicious. “Mmmmm, yeah... That was a good idea, actually,” he panted.

“I still have that plug somewhere...” Hal cooed, his voice teasing.

“You...” James opened his eyes and looked down at his partner. “Really?”

“Yeah...?” Hal’s expression went from surprised to feral in 1.5 seconds. He hitched his hips up, driving his cock into James hard enough to make him hiccup in shock. “You want me to come inside you then plug you up, don’t you, my boy?”

“Maybe?” James flushed hot as he bounced faster on Hal’s cock.

Hal started countering his movements to thrust harder and deeper inside every time, and with so much stimulation of his prostate, James started to lose his sense of reality. His skin began melting into the ether, while his insides were fizzing and popping and growing three sizes too big.

He could just register Hal’s voice saying, “I’m going to fuck you boneless then plug you up, and you’re going to go to the bar all full of my come with that thick plug inside you and you’re going to be a good little bartender to all our friends and when you come home, I’m going to take the plug out and lick the come as it dribbles down your thighs, then fuck that loose hole all over again.”

And that’s when James came, untouched.

 

~~

 

“So... Since when has Thomas Hamilton started taking up your sloppy seconds?”

It was early on a Monday night so the bar was still nearly empty. Which meant Jack had the room to drape himself over the bar in a way that looked like an attempt at casual — if casual included a lace handkerchief and a chaise longue — and drop this little tidbit into James’ ear with a wicked smile.

James paused in mixing the frou-frouiest drink he had on the menu — which was saying something since this was a gay bar — and looked Jack dead in the eye. With his iciest tone, he muttered, “Excuse me?”

“John Silver, your pup-of-the-week from last week, is now getting fucked by our dear pal Tammy Hammy.”

“And?” James focused on garnishing the drink, and also on steadying his breathing. He needed to keep it together, and starting out his shift with high blood pressure was not the way to succeed.

“I haven’t known you two to be interested in the same people — at least not at approximately the same time.”

“Coincidence, I guess,” James shrugged, trying to unclench. It wasn’t easy.

“I guess...” Jack tapped his card on the bar idly to the music. James gritted his teeth. “Except... you know there’s something about our John. I really think _he_ thinks you _like_ him.”

“Everyone likes him, Jack. He’s beautiful and charming and—” James stopped himself before he showed his hand, straightened his spine, took a deep breath.

“And a choice cut of fresh meat, I know. Sometimes drag rehearsal feels like a bunch of sharks circling the one diver in a cage with a tasty bucket of chum.” Jack squinted as if the metaphor had gotten away from him. James wanted to laugh.

He managed instead to clear his throat and say, very conversationally, “Did you just call John a chum bucket?”

“Inadvertently, yes. But my point, I think, was clear. John is highly desirable and, until recently, had been a free agent. Now...” Jack pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Now, _what,_ Jack?” James was angry at himself for taking the bait and gingerly moved to the other side of the bar to check that the coolers were full.

Of course, a couple minutes later, he was back in Jack’s corner, pretending like he didn’t remember what they’d been talking about.

Jack caught his eye and gave him a _look._ “ _Now..._ within a week, John has been seen going home with the two most high profile queer men in the community, myself excluded, of course.”

The smile James allowed at that was very near a sneer. He did _not_ have the patience for this, tonight of all nights. “Still not seeing the point, Jack...”

“There are two, actually. It’s a double-pronged point.” Jack took a long sip from the straw in his drink, as if in preparation. “One, I’ve never seen him happier than he has been over the last week. And two... Are you still with me?”

James had needed to turn away at Jack’s first statement because the flush of delight he’d felt had warmed his insides, but, given what was inside, it also warmed his outsides. He didn’t want to give Jack the satisfaction of seeing him blush. Or sweat.

“Mmhmm,” he acknowledged while refilling the bottles of juices used as mixers.

“Good, I’d hate for you to miss my big finish,” Jack drawled. “Two, if he was happy fucking you last week — pardon, I mean _being fucked by_ you, obviously — and he’s even more happy fucking and/or being fucked by Thomas this week... What happens _next_ week when you’re both done with him? I really, _truly_ believe that he has no idea how one-and-done you both are, which means he’s in for a rude surprise, the poor dear. “

_The audacity._

James did not have the wherewithal to deal with this bullshit this evening, but here he was, having to listen to Jack Rackham’s armchair psychology about his boyfriend. Well, his soon-to-be _non-_ primary partner. His tertiary partner-on-hiatus?

_Was that right, though? How did that even happen?_

His newest conquest who he never got to finish up with, and who had quickly become more important than expected?

His... _John._

A person he cared about and wanted to see happy. Who he shouldn’t have let in if he didn’t want complications like this. Who was fucking his best friend/most long-term lover because why the fuck not?

Who James couldn’t get out of his head — or out from under his skin — even if it would have been better for everyone if he could have.

Better for everyone except John.

Jack was going on and on. “He’ll have already hit his social — and dare I say sexual — peak so soon after moving here. And what, pray tell, will he have to look forward to after that? I always thought you two spread out your conquests of the town’s Pretty Young Things for this exact reason and I just—”

“Jackie, shut the _fuck_ up.”

The appalled look on Jack’s face was almost worth it, because for once at least half of it was real, honest-to-God, shock.

James took advantage of Jack’s dumbfounded silence to continue, quietly, calmly. Chillingly. “One, next week is not your concern.”

“If he’s in despair about losing both of you in such a short time it will—”

“Next week is _not your concern._ ” The growl in his low voice seemed to keep Jack sufficiently quiet. Hopefully also scared. “Two, if John’s happy right now, don’t sit around anticipating his despair like some bitter old queen. A lot can happen in a week, after all.”

Jack’s smile looked more like a grimace. James pressed his advantage.

“And three, though I can’t believe I’m even addressing this one: _No One_ is as Machiavellian about who and when _and how_ they fuck as you think they are. Get over yourself and think about something else. Better yet, get laid.”

“Are you offering?” If Jack had meant this as a snappy comeback, it failed. Instead it had a grace note of pleading in it.

“Ha. _No._ ”

“Ah. Right.” With the inevitable rejection out of the way, Jack became philosophical in defeat. “Lightning never strikes the same pup twice, I suppose...? Except Thomas. How _did_ he manage that, do you think?”

James couldn’t help smiling archly at Jack’s blatant fishing technique.

He decided to answer the rhetorical question, just to fuck with him. “Thomas has never _been_ a pup. He caught me when _I_ was still one.”

“Damn. And here I was hoping it was witchcraft, which I’d happily learn if...”

Jack glanced over at James in the middle of this flippant confession and seemed to notice his smile had gone. In its place was utter disdain, complete with flared nostrils and a lip twitch.

He trailed off and sucked sourly on his straw in awkward silence while James set the mixing station in order before moving on to finish prepping for the evening.

  

~~

 

"Hey Jamie. You know what new thing I learned last night?"

John was leaning as far over the bar as he could with his most wicked and winning smile.

He’d convinced Thomas to have one drink with him at The Frig before meeting up with some of the gals later. By design, he’d arrived first. Or almost first. Jack was nursing a drink in the corner and sulking.

James was cutting citrus for the garnish tubs with a disgruntled frown, but that didn’t stop John from getting his one tease in for the day. He’d been thinking about it most of the afternoon and licked his lips in anticipation of getting James nice and hard right before the bar filled up.

“Don’t, John. Not right now.” James sounded tired, possibly already annoyed.

John bristled. “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“You want to paint an evocative picture of yourself and Thomas in bed for me to obsess over my entire shift and I just refuse to deal with that tonight. I can’t...” he sighed, like it wasn’t even worth finishing his sentence. Like John wasn’t worth an explanation.

“Well. He’s got you on a tight leash, huh?” John meant to tease but the words came out with a lot of venom under the sweetness.

James’ face was dark and stormy when he looked up, and he pointed a peeler at John’s chest. “Don’t talk about what you don’t know. Hal and I have been together _ten years_ and you need to fucking respect that.”

Heat flushed John’s neck and face in a matter of moments. “Look. _You’re_ the one who wanted me so fucking badly you begged for it every night and then dumped me out of the blue, but _also_ swore you still wanted me, and promised you’d come back later, and I’m supposed to just be able to turn my feelings off and on again like a fucking switch or something?” James opened his mouth to speak but John rode right over him. “And _you’re_ the one who decided to keep my switch turned _on_ by giving me _permission_ to tease you during this fucking ridiculous off week, but only like a _little bit_ as if I know whatever that means, so don’t jump down _my_ throat, whenever you feel like changing the fucking rules again without telling me.”

Again James opened his mouth, and he looked like he was ready to tear John to shreds. John quailed at the sight, leaning back, out of reach.

But James just stood there as if frozen. And then he just fucking started mixing a drink.

Baffled, John watched, expecting James to speak at some point, but he didn’t open his mouth again until he set an Old Fashioned down in front of John.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. But I’m asking you not to try and get me riled up tonight. I don’t have it in me to play the game right now.”

“The game that _you_ set up the rules for.”

“Yes, that one. I’m sorry, John. Just not tonight.”

John shook his head, still baffled, also disappointed. And hurt. “Fine. Whatever.”

As he walked away from the bar he saw Thomas enter. He waved as he walked over to what had become their table, and Thomas met him there, a worried frown on his face.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

John sighed and tilted his head toward the bar. "I don’t even know. He's being impossible. God, I hate this." He dropped into a chair as all the anger slipped out of him, leaving despondence.

"He's busy, darling. Don't take it personal—"

"It's _Monday,_ Thomas. This is absurd; I should just take the hint and give up."

"Not yet. Give him a chance."

“He _said_ I could tease him, then...” John looked at Thomas’ concerned face. "I'm sorry, babe. I have no right to complain about another lover with you. That's unfair."

"It's fine, sweetheart. It's James. Were it someone else I might not feel the same, but Jamie is an exception to all the rules."

"He sure as hell _thinks_ he is..."

Thomas put a gentle hand on John's shoulder and he felt like crying. Not that he could, now he was on T, but the feeling still crept up his throat. Thomas kissed his hair, a welcome benediction.

When he took a step toward the bar John grabbed his hand. Not because he didn’t want Thomas to talk to James, but because he didn't want to lose the physical connection between them. And the comfort it brought him.

"Come on, pup. Let me talk to him. I'll be right back."

John nodded and let Thomas go. It was shockingly nice to have someone willing to advocate for him, someone who actually cared about his welfare. Who could have thought it would be the queen of queens herself, Thomas Hamilton?

 

~~

 

“Cape Cod, double tall, please,” Thomas said breezily.

James held up a finger as he finished punching something into the register, then looked up at Thomas. “Absolutely.”

There was something in his movement that seemed careful, not hesitant but reserved, less graceful and easy.

Thomas had positioned himself right above the cooler with the cranberry juice so he got to examine James closely while he filled the glass. “Everything all right, Jamie darling?”

“Of course, dear.” He sounded like a bored husband saying what his wife wanted to hear. That was _not_ how their respective roles worked.

“John doesn’t seem to think so,” Thomas needled.

He watched James register the scratch and found a sick joy in watching the anger bloom. “John doesn’t know everything. Especially not when to quit.”

“He’s not going to quit. He wants you, you asshole.”

“I’m busy with my primary partner right now. He can entertain himself. Or better yet, _you_ can entertain him.” His tone was dismissive in the extreme, which meant he cared more than he wanted to admit.

_Was he actually jealous?_

“Believe me, I have been. But I’m not you.”

“Why are you lobbying so hard for him, hmm?” James set the full glass down in front of Thomas a little too hard and growled, “Why not for yourself?”

“You...” Thomas absolutely needed to keep his mouth shut, but now it was James who was deliberately provoking, poking the hornet’s nest, and he too deserved to get stung. “You would love it if I pushed for us to be something — _anything_ — after all these years. It would give you the perfect excuse to drop me like a hot coal.”

The nastiness dropped completely out of James’ face at Thomas’ words. He looked appalled. “No, Thomas. I would _never._ Truly.”

Thomas backed off a step, totally wrong-footed. Everything about this interaction —  about a lot of things — suddenly changed color. “Then what the fuck is your problem tonight?”

“I’m... dealing with something. Hal has...”

“Oh God. Are things going poorly? I should have told him he was being a fool.”

“No, no, things are great. We've been fucking like rabbits. He just...” James’ cheeks had turned pink somehow — or they had been from the start and Thomas hadn’t noticed until now. “I’m distracted because...”

He shifted his body in an oddly stiff way, and Thomas suddenly _knew._ “He’s got you... what? Is it rope? A plug? Both?”

“Hush, God.” James glanced around, his ears and neck also tinged pink — strawberries and cream on his pale skin. “He wanted to keep me loose, if you will...”

“Oooh, honey. The whole shift?”

James nodded. “I’m sorry I’ve been short with you and John. It’s just that he used a big one and when it brushes my...” he canted his hips and winced.

“Yeah, that’s...” Thomas pursed his lips, trying not to smile. “That’s rough, baby. You could prolly use some relief.”

“Don’t — Don’t kid. I would kill for your hand right now, but...”

“Yeah. I’m sorry John teased you earlier. He clearly didn’t know.”

“Not his fault. I can’t think straight, and I was short with him when I shouldn’t have been.”

“He’ll forgive you, love.”

“I hope so.” James looked legitimately worried. What had he even said?

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Please don’t tell him about...” James raised an eyebrow instead of finishing the sentence.

“It would make things easier if I could explain...”

“No. This is between Hal and me. You guessed because you’re you, but I don’t want anyone else knowing.”

“As you wish, my dear.”

Thomas picked up his glass to take back to John's table but paused before leaving. "Did the pup mention the thing tomorrow?"

James' attention had been drawn by a customer down the bar asking for another beer. He turned back to Thomas with a frown, setting a clean beer glass under a tap before saying, "No?" with a little shake of his head.

Thomas sighed. John had expressly asked to come up to the bar early tonight to invite James to the event. "Drag night at Max's. He's performing. Would like you to be there."

James was quiet as he filled the glass. "I'll have to see what Hal says." He took the beer over to the patron, then came right back to Thomas, like a yo-yo.

_That was telling. Wasn't it?_

"What if _I_ invited him?" Thomas said, as if he'd just had the idea. "He said he wanted to see what the other troupe were up to..."

"That would work," James said, hopeful eyes on Thomas. "You'd do that?"

"Of course, darling. Just don't let him plug you for that. I believe you'd perish."

James barked a laugh and smiled fondly at Thomas. "It would keep you royally entertained, though, wouldn't it?"

"I'll already be entertained, watching you watch him." Thomas took a very prim sip of his drink.

"Yeah..." James sighed and looked over at Thomas and John's table.

"What is it about this one, honey?"

James glanced at Thomas, guilty at being caught looking. "I dunno. I mean, do _you_ know? Hasn't he gotten under your skin too?"

"Maybe I was just more ready for it — could see the insufferable charm tornado coming."

They both chuckled at the accuracy of Thomas' image.

"Maybe," James mused. "And maybe you two are a better fit."

"Nonsense. Besides, that's not your decision to make. Not unilaterally, at least." He looked pointedly over at John who was fidgeting with his empty glass and trying not to look over at them. Much.

James silently filled a rocks glass with ice, then lifted his chin toward John. Thomas nodded and waited while James mixed an Old Fashioned for him to take back to the table with him.

 

~~

 

John Silver was splayed out flat on his back, panting, dazed. His eyes were closed and his mouth open, hair trailing every which way, one arm resting on the mattress beside his head, hand laying palm up, loose and still.

Thomas had evidently worn him out.

_Poor pup._

Thomas fit himself up against John’s side, watching his face and body as he recovered from a long and heady string of orgasms. This was the first time John had taken his shirt off during sex and Thomas marveled at how beautiful he was. It was frankly impossible not to touch such beauty, so Thomas ran his hand along John’s flat, muscled stomach from pelvis to solar plexus. When the only response was a deep sigh, he kissed John’s shoulder and did it again.

The second time, Thomas was so distracted by the planes of John’s stomach that his hand strayed past its end point and his fingers brushed the base of John’s sternum. John squirmed and grabbed hold of Thomas’ wrist, even as he was lifting it away.

Thomas berated himself for accidentally pushing the boundary on John’s rule of not touching his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“‘Salright.” John mumbled as if still in a stupor, but his eyes were alert and his body tense.

“I didn’t meant to, and I won’t do it again.”

“It’s fine,” John said with finality, but everything about his body language said otherwise.

Thomas looked more closely at John’s chest, at the faint scars beneath each pectoral muscle and couldn’t help asking, “Does it hurt?”

“No, just...”

John shifted, clearly uncomfortable under Thomas’ gaze, so he refocused his attention to John’s face. There he saw unease, which, after their night together looked completely out of place.

It seemed to be both difficult and necessary for John to continue. “It’s a _scar._ It’s the remnant of a mistake.”

That response took Thomas by surprise and he couldn’t help showing it. “The surgery was a mistake? Did the doctor do it badly?” He glanced down again, but nothing about John’s chest looked anywhere close to wrong.

“No, what was there _before_ was a mistake.”

Thomas felt he was navigating dark and dangerous waters, but wouldn’t leave John alone in them, so he ventured forward. “And so, you corrected it. And now you are more _you,_ right?”

“More or less, yeah...” John was frowning up at the ceiling but Thomas didn’t feel there was any anger in him, possibly confusion, or maybe the effort of will it took to talk about these things required that much concentration.

“So this...” Thomas jutted his chin towards John’s chest. “It’s the mark of a correction. Of taking things into your own hands and making them what you need them to be. That looks like strength to me.”

He propped his head up on one hand and watched John’s face as he digested this idea.

“Maybe. But I can’t feel much there.”

Thomas paused, unsure if John meant that was part of the mistake. “Is that painful or upsetting to you?”

John shook his head slowly, still looking upwards. “Just weird. Makes it hard to connect with my body there.”

Biting his lip, Thomas weighed the pros and cons of his next question and decided there was no harm in offering. “Do you think it would help if you could watch while someone touched you there?”

John glanced quickly at Thomas, then away, back to his friend, the ceiling. “I... dunno.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Just let me know.” Thomas kissed John’s shoulder again, then went back to stroking his hips and stomach, never going past his solar plexus again.

After a few minutes, John shifted under his touch, rippling his stomach muscles in what felt like an invitation to touch further up his torso. Thomas took the hint, but only just. He stroked along both sides of John’s ribcage and nearly to his sternum, but he took care to stop short of the scars.

John grunted softly when Thomas’ hand brushed very close to the scar tissue, so he took a risk and followed the line, trailing one fingertip just below the scar from under one armpit to the other. He watched John’s face watching his finger travel over the unmarred skin, and there was much to be learned in the cast of his eyes, the pressure of his lips, the flare of his nostrils.

Was it possible no one had ever done this for him before? Touched him here, in this way?

When Thomas’ finger reached the very end and lifted off of John’s skin, he shivered violently and sighed like he’d been holding his breath the whole time. Thomas too needed a deep breath after holding himself so steady and still.

He was about to let himself fully relax again and lay his head back down on the pillow, when John spoke, voice rough. “Okay. Try it.”

Thomas paused, then quietly asked, “You sure?”

John nodded, eyes back on the ceiling.

“John, honey. Look at me.”

He did.

“You want me to touch your chest while you watch?”

He nodded again. Thomas waited.

“Yes, please. Just like you were doing, but all the way up.”

“Okay, tell me whenever you need to stop.” John nodded again and Thomas kissed his shoulder, then placed his palm flat on John’s stomach. He felt it rise with a deep breath, and then he drew his hand up John’s torso, past his ribcage, along his sternum, up to his collarbone, resting it there for a moment.

John breathed deeply again, his eyes on Thomas’ hand as if there were nothing else in the world. Thomas reminded himself to breathe, then passed his hand down and over one pec, sliding over a flat, pink nipple, following the line of scar tissue from the outward edge to the center, then over to the other side and up, over the other pec, and back. He rested his hand on the very center of John’s chest, feeling the heart beat light and quick, and pressed his lips to John’s temple.

John’s whole head had moved to followed the path of Thomas’ hand, his bright blue expressive eyes riveted, his eyebrows twitching, his lips alternately pursed and pulled tight, brow deeply furrowed the whole time.

Thomas looked into that lovely face and whispered, “Okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” John sighed, glancing up at Thomas and smiling before looking back down. “Again?”

“As you wish, my dear.”

Thomas made the same circuit as before, and then moved his hand a bit more free-from over the expanse, even dipping back down to John’s stomach and hip to ground this touch in place — this part of his body was only a piece of the puzzle, all of which fit together to make him whole.

After a while, John wasn’t so riveted on Thomas’ movement, and he seemed to be able to integrate the feeling of his chest being touched into his understanding of pleasurable experiences. He even purred a bit by the time Thomas was tracing along his collarbone, having started at his ribs and worked his way up.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous, John. May I kiss you?”

He’d squirmed at Thomas’ praise, but then stilled at the question, brows furrowed once again. “Uh, sure?”

As John raised his mouth toward Thomas, he smirked and, making sure to hold John’s gaze, leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his pec.

“Oh.” It was more a breath than a word, and Thomas thrilled to hear it. “Yes.”

That was all Thomas needed to bring this from just pleasurable into the realm of erotic. He took his time and worshipped every inch of John’s chest. And then the rest of him, too.


	10. Tuesday, February 13th (Day Four)

**Johnny Pup:** Hey, you.  
**Johnny Pup:** I miss you.  
**Johnny Pup:** Like, I know we’ve seen each other almost every day, but I miss you.  
**Johnny Pup:** I miss touching your hair. I miss the smell of your skin. I miss kissing your freckles...  
**Johnny Pup:** That's all. Ttyl I guess.

 

[LATER]

 

 **Jamie Kitten:** When did you change your name in my phone?  
**Jamie Kitten:** Also, you’ve never kissed my freckles.

 **Johnny Pup:** The dusting on your shoulders. The single dark one on your hip. Your whole back is a galaxy of freckles and I want to play connect the dots for hours.

 **Jamie Kitten:** Thomas told you about the one on my hip.

 **Johnny Pup:** I pressed the tip of my tongue to it the first night we were together.

 **Jamie Kitten:** Christ.  
**Jamie Kitten:** I hate this.  
**Jamie Kitten:** I’ll never ask you to do this again.

 **Johnny Pup: ❤**  
**Johnny Pup:** I’m sorry I’ve been making it harder than it has to be.

 **Jamie Kitten:** I love Hal so fucking much and I’m so grateful for our life together, but I would have gone insane without /any/ contact with you and Thomas.

 **Johnny Pup:** Shit. Is that what he’d asked for?

 **Jamie Kitten:** I don’t actually care if that’s what he meant, tbqh. I’m not fucking either of you for five whole days and giving him my undivided attention at home. Mostly. As undivided as I possibly can.

 **Johnny Pup:** Sounds like you respected his boundary as much as you were able.  
**Johnny Pup:** (Is that a thing? Because that’s what I’ve been trying to do as well. I’m not super good at following orders without some pushback, so even the One Tease Allowance has been hard. Obvy.)

 **Jamie Kitten:** You’re fine, baby. You’ve done great. <3

 **Johnny Pup:** Thanks, babe. Xo

 **Jamie Kitten:** See you at your show, later. xo

 **Johnny Pup:** YES Can’t wait! **😘**

 

**~~**

 

 **JamiePants:** Have I said thank you yet?

 **T.Hammy:** For what?

 **JamiePants:** John.

 **T.Hammy:** ?

 **JamiePants:** You made it happen initially and you’re the one taking care of him now and you seem to actually want it to work out for us, which, IDK feels really generous and...  
**JamiePants:** Just, Thank You. I appreciate you.

 **T.Hammy:** <3 <3 <3

 **JamiePants:** xoxoxooxoxoxo

 **T.Hammy:** Love you, baby. <3  
**T.Hammy:** Just, you know, a thing that’s true. That I remember in times like these.

 **JamiePants:** <3 <3 <3  
**JamiePants:** Times when we can’t act on it in any way?

 **T.Hammy:** Ha. I mean, I guess not, but also... I’m here. I got you. :*

 **JamiePants:** Thank fucking God. xoxoxoxo

 **T.Hammy:** I know we’re pretty infrequent these days, but can I have you some night soon?

 **JamiePants:** Believe me, negotiations at the end of the hiatus will definitely include a good amount of time with you. :*

 **T.Hammy:** \o/ :*

 

~~

 

The scary drag king, Clyde N. Bonny, was up on Max’s stage, dressed to the nines, looking super aggro, and barely moving even though the music started eight bars ago.

The place was packed and the evening had been a success so far. The drag numbers were all exciting and interesting, many of them new and different, and all of them tons of fun. The audience had responded enthusiastically to each act, showering them with affection and praise. And, of course, money.

This number, however, did not look promising.

James exchanged looks with Thomas and Hal, both of whom seemed as disconcerted as he himself felt.

Then the vocals came in and the drag king mimed stomping out a cigarette, then walked the length of the stage and back like a serial killer/runway model. It was... effective.

[The song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGD2N5hJ2e0&list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu&index=7) was dark and sultry and menacing, and was possibly the opening music for that super violent show with Cillian Murphy set in the 1920s.

There really wasn’t much else to the routine but the threat of violence until Clyde stepped _off_ the stage and into the crowd, scowling while stalking through the room and stopping at different tables, just standing like a bored GQ model, waiting for someone to hold out some money.

Then he’d wink at them or raise an eyebrow, maybe curl a lip — subtle as fuck and twice as seductive — then move on to the next group. Suddenly, everyone in the room seemed to be holding out money for him, waiting their turn for a sullen but sultry visit.

Thomas scrambled in his breast pocket for some singles and waved a couple at Clyde, and soon he stopped at their table, draping an arm around James, who was sitting nearest the aisle.

Thomas reached across to try and tuck the money into Clyde’s breast pocket and got his hand smacked for his trouble. The money was ripped out of his grip at the same time that a few menacingly low words were spoken in James’ ear.

“Our John’s a fucking fool but he’s ours, and if you play him like one...”

...and Clyde crushed the bills into the tiniest ball of currency James had ever seen, then dropped it into his drink.

_Right. Reality check._

James would admit that while in his own private fog of repentance and suffering this week, he had completely ignored the fact that other people in the community were both aware of the situation and keeping tabs on it.

To be fair, there were people who had a vested interest in the owners of The Frig staying together, and there were folks at both bars who considered themselves friends with any and/or all of the four major players in their little drama.

What he hadn’t taken into account was people taking sides so blatantly.

_Shit. Which side was Max on?_

“Did Clyde just say what I think he said?”

Thomas had leaned in and was keeping his voice low under the music, and James was grateful that Hal was far enough away — and focusing on the end of Clyde’s number — not to hear them.

“I guess he and John are friends?”

Thomas raised an expressive eyebrow and nodded once.

“Has John been talking about...” James waved his hand between the two of them in a vaguely triangular shape, “during practices?”

“Not around me, but that troupe is close knit, and Max is a suspicious lady.”

“Of course she is; she’s a woman in business. And she has a right to be, though I’m certain she agrees that there’s no bad blood between her and _us._ ”

“Well darling, there’s a difference between professional courtesy and protecting your young ones.” Thomas gave James a _look,_ and then went back to watching the room as if their conversation bored him, a tactic he used often when talking about critical things.

He of course was right that Max would always be much more of an ally than competition with regard to their places of business, but at the same time she had vociferously expressed her displeasure at watching James burn through nearly every available gay man in the county the last few years. To be fair, he’d gained quite a reputation, since his antics hadn’t looked like a coping mechanism to anyone but Hal and Thomas. At least he hoped they hadn’t.

Leaning sideways toward James’ ear while still looking around at the rapt crowd, Thomas added, “I suspect, however, that our Blithe and Bonny friend was acting purely on their own recognizance.”

“Remind me to give them a wide berth from now on,” James muttered darkly.

Thomas huffed, his eyes on the stage as Clyde N. Bonny stalked around it once more. “You don’t need that reminder, darling.”

James smirked and raised his eyebrow in concession.

He would have said more, but the number ended and the crowd roared and clapped for a solid minute after Clyde stormed offstage. James fished the money out of his drink and set it on a napkin.

“Well count me as scared _and_ horny!” Hal said with a broad smile and a wink.

“Darling, do I need to limit your time on the internet? Your millennial pop culture references are getting a little much,” Thomas said with a teasing smile.

“At least you get them, my dear. Jamie over there has been on ice for seventy years, I swear it.”

“Hey, I understood that reference,” James said with a nearly straight face. Both his loves cackled with laughter. Their mirth brought warmth to his insides. He chuckled into his drink — then remembered not to sip it just in time. He stole a sip of Thomas’ manhattan instead. Max still made them too sweet, but that was why Thomas ordered them here.

“Well, what do we think this young man will be like onstage, eh?” Hal asked, voice jovial and even.

Hal had graciously accepted Thomas’ invitation to Max’s place for the drag king’s bi-monthly (semi-monthly?) show, in what James could only assume was a fit of generosity — or possibly sadism, depending on how seductive John’s number ended up being.

James shifted in his seat, still having absolutely no idea what John was like as a performer, or what this number specifically was going to entail. He’d been able to wait through an entire evening of performances to see it — John was the closer of the show — but now he was getting impatient.

Thomas just grinned smugly at him, then at Hal, and said, “I suppose we’ll find out in a minute.” For the first time since they were in university, James stuck his tongue out at Thomas. He made a mock-appalled face back and nudged James’ shoulder with his own.

God, it felt good to spend time with Thomas like this. They had drifted apart when James went on his spree of lovers during the Hal/Billy years, and had made only a minor effort to renew their closeness in the last six months. The failure, James was sure, was on his part.

But he was going to fix that in the future, not just because of this whole John thing, but because he deeply treasured his friendship with Thomas. It was the longest relationship he’d ever been in, after all.

James nudged Thomas’ shoulder back and smiled at him with all the fondness in his heart. Thomas gave him a charmed, quizzical look, but just before James could say something sappy, he was interrupted by the MC announcing Johnny Pocket Rocket.

  

~~

 

John peeked at the audience from behind the curtain as the DJ, Muldoon, cued up his song. The mic stand was already set downstage center and the crowd looked antsy. Or bored. Or something not good.

He was more nervous tonight than he’d been since he first started doing drag in his mid-twenties — back before he’d fully figured out gender stuff.

It would be fine, though. This crowd was forgiving and super generous even when not filled with the queens, though a couple of the troupe were here tonight. John could see Jack at a table in the very front, and... _yes._ There were Thomas and James, as well as Hal Gates, by the stage right aisle.  

_Goddddd._

He couldn’t even look at them for long enough to gauge how they were feeling, but it didn’t really matter until he was out there performing, and then he _really_ wouldn’t be able to make himself look.

Max had approached him earlier, while he was getting into ‘face’ — not that he had much to do anymore since he had a good amount of real scruff and didn’t need a stipple brush or spirit glue for hair clippings.

She’d gloated about being right — that James would break up with him by the weekend — and when he’d explained what was actually happening, she’d told him he was ‘putting the finger in the eye’ to believe that things were going to turn out all right.

“Flint and Thomas are as thick as the thieves — they have hooked their atoms together. They always have been this way. Putting yourself between them is madness. If you think that when the push comes to the shove, they won’t toss overboard anything — or anyone — that might rock their little boat... _Tu es_ _un imbécile, mon ami._ And that Hal Gates... Flint would do anything for him. _Absolument._ Whenever Gates feels like saying ‘No John Silver’, it will be so. _C'est vrai, mon coeur._ I say the truth to you now as a kindness, I promise.”

John hadn’t had the heart to protest such vehemence, so he’d just nodded and let her go on her way. But it had left him shaken and nervous as fuck, both about his performance tonight and the future of any of his relationships.

_God. Relationships, plural._

_What the fuck was he doing?_

Did he really have the moral fortitude to go on with this whole thing? It remained to be seen. Best to just get through the number first. That was step one.

The background music faded and Muldoon gave him a thumbs up. Heart in his mouth, he returned the gesture. A moment later, the synth-drone-and-bassline part of the intro to “[Livin’ On A Prayer](https://%20https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDK9QqIzhwk&list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu&index=8)” started up. John took a deep breath, let it out quickly, and, on the first attack of the drums, he shot through the curtain to flash a huge grin at the audience. He landed center stage in full 80s regalia — fringed leather jacket, white tank top, stone washed jeans, and cowboy boots. Hair teased up into a cascade of Glam Rock curls.

A few people in the audience whistled and called out. He winked at them, Jack in particular, who had helped him conceive of this performance.

_This was going to be easy. As long as he didn’t chicken out..._

John geared himself up during the intro by picking up the mic stand in two hands and strutting around the stage with it. Very Jon Bon Jovi — confident, charming, cocky, even. The audience responded well, which helped him be ready to give it his all when the lyrics started.

For the first verse he strode around the stage, lip-syncing his heart out about Tommy and Gina’s hard life, appealing directly to individual people in the audience, most of whom were eating it up.

When he got to the pre-chorus about _‘we gotta hold on to what we’ve got’_ , he set the stand down, grabbed at the air, and pulled it towards his hips. More noises came at him from the crowd and even some people had started singing along. He’d planted himself firmly at the edge of the stage, and he gave them all his best rockstar grin, pointing high over their heads on _‘We’ll give it a shot.’_ A loud “Woo!” came from the back somewhere, and a handful of _‘Ohhh’s_ joined him on the chorus. When the first _'Whoa-oh!’_ came along, it felt like half the bar shouted it with him.

He reached out his hands to the front tables on _‘take my hand, we’ll make it I swear’_ and people reached right back, the same words on their lips.

It felt almost too easy. If this was already a lovefest on the first chorus, where did he have to go by the end?

_Out into the abyss._

_Don’t think, John. Just make it happen._

Before the second verse he turned upstage and shook off his jacket, tossing it through the curtain and turning around right in time to start singing into the mic. It was a good effect and he’d practiced it with the music a bunch of times to get it just right. It _totally_ paid off. He had them all eating out of his hand.

_God, the rush..._

For the sad verse, he dropped down the energy, standing still and using the mic stand as an anchor. When he sang about Gina he let the connection he felt with her come out, raising his arms above his head and moving his hips to the music. It just felt right for that quiet moment.

When he looked up just before the pre-chorus, he could tell he’d had an affect on at least one audience member. He’d risked a glance at the Danger Table and Thomas was wide-eyed and drop-jawed. The electric thrill that shot through John fortified him to get through the next chorus.

_You got this, go go go!_

He left the mic stand and strutted right off the stage into the audience, singing directly to the people at the front tables, all of whom were singing back to him. He started at the table stage left, singing _‘We gotta hold on to what we’ve got’_ right to Jackie, and worked his way over to Thomas, James, and Hal by _‘We’ll give it a shot’._ He nearly lost it seeing James sing that lyric to him, but he had bigger fish to fry.

When the _‘Ohhhh’_ of the chorus started again, he raised his hands to get every last person in the bar singing along, but they were with him already. By _'Livin’ on a prayer,’_ the air was thick with voices nearly drowning out the speakers and he revelled in it, hands reaching to the ceiling like a wizard conjuring the forces of joy to his fingertips.

Then, when he sang _‘take my hand, we’ll make it I swear,’_ he reached out with a hopeful smile to Hal Gates.

For just a couple bars, everything stopped for him — John couldn’t move, he couldn’t sing, he could barely breathe, waiting for Hal’s response.

The rest of the bar kept the song going without him just fine. Only those in the immediate vicinity could see what was happening, and fewer still knew what it meant.

Hal frowned, but maybe more in incomprehension than anything, because after glancing at James and Thomas, he looked up into John’s face. The audience was screaming _‘Whoa-oh! Livin’ on a prayer’_ and Hal nodded, his meaty hand sliding into John’s in a firm shake.

John threw his head back and howled along with Bon Jovi repeating, _‘Livin’ on a Prayyyyer!’_ and the crowd went fucking _wild._

So did his heartbeat.

_SUCCESS!!!_

As the guitar solo started he looked back at Hal, nodded and squeezed his hand once before letting go. He grinned at both Thomas and James who each touched his arm before he moved away. He made his way around the bar, dancing along the aisles playing air guitar and slipping between the densely packed tables to grab or slap the hands eagerly held out to him.

These hands were all empty, which should have felt weird. He was used to taking dollar bills from people at this point in a number, but this felt like the ultimate compliment for this song — everyone just wanted to take his hand. He felt like a legit rockstar.

And, most importantly, he’d gotten Hal Gates’ approval.

He made it back to the stage by the end of the solo and sang at the top of his voice to his adoring audience. On the line, _'You live for the fight when that’s all that you’ve got’_ he climbed up the Marshall speaker stack and stood on top of it.

The crowd screamed as the key change hit and ramped everyone up to eleven. The whole bar was on its feet, arms in the air, reaching for John. He felt like he could jump into the midst of them and crowd surf — they would support him with those upturned hands — but he knew he wouldn’t. He liked the view from up here too much.

And the energy, like wave upon wave crashing over him.

Hearing the words _‘Take my hand and we’ll make it I swear’_ screamed back at him from all of his favorite people in town was _a lot_ to take. His hands were already reaching out to them, so he gestured to everyone to join him on stage for the last chorus.

They stormed the stage, dancing and jumping and singing their voices raw, and John’s heart nearly burst from the joy.

As the song faded out, Jack grabbed him down from the speaker and hugged the daylights out of him, then whispered only, “Well fucking done," before backing away, nodding at James and Thomas as they came up behind John and sandwich-hugged him.

_God, he'd needed that. From both of them._

And it didn’t end when a hug normally should. The crowd was dissipating, heading back to their seats or the bar, leaving just the three of them on a stage completely covered in dollar bills. And still his boys didn’t let him go.

“I’ve... guys, I’ve gotta clean up.” John mumbled into James’ neck.

Thomas kissed the side of his head and let go, saying, “We’ll be at our table.”

He didn’t step away, however, as James took another moment for himself. Before letting go, James inhaled deeply then whispered into John’s ear, “You smell good. Like sex.”

And John’s heart and cock leapt at the same time. He flushed hot and swelled with pride in multiple places, just as James pulled away with a wicked grin.

_God fucking dammit. Teasing payback._

He bared his teeth, then relented and blew each of them a kiss as they headed back to their table. Muldoon had started dance music at a low volume and came to help clean up the stage, bless him.

Within a couple minutes John was backstage, being praised by the whole troupe.

“Best number of the night!” Charlotte squealed.

Idelle gushed, “I’ve never seen you so _on_ like that. Amazing!”

“Fabulous performance, kiddo! I’m so impressed!” Eleanor patted him on the back as he headed to his makeup chair.

“You jumped around like a fool and nearly gave everyone a heart attack on top of that speaker, but damn. You had them all eating out of your hand.” Anne muttered, hovering over him as he leaned into the mirror and wiped the sweat off his face, then shrugged on a hoodie. Anne nudged the sneakers under his chair with their toe, and John figured they were impatient to get their cowboy boots back.

He nodded and sat down to change shoes as Anne said, “If you’re not used to them, they hurt after a while. Even when broken in.”

“Oh, thanks, Anne. I appreciate it.” He grinned winningly at them and they scowled back. Someday he’d remember to treat them like a skittish cat and not give them so much direct attention.

“Don’t mention it.” Anne's tone made it sound like they sincerely meant for him not to talk about such things.

He bit his lip and nodded before heading out to the main room of the bar.

 

~~

 

When James and Thomas came back from the stage, they were somewhat subdued, though Hal could feel the energy buzzing underneath their skins. They were trying to not gush about their boy in front of him, he knew. It was both precious and annoying, but when it came to James Flint, what wasn’t?

“He was really good, your John. Best energy of the night,” he offered, to give them the opening they needed to praise their boy.

And praise they did.

Honestly, Hal had been under-impressed, not by John’s showmanship, which was off the charts, but because he’d been led to believe there would be more gender play in the performance than there was. To be fair, this number seemed to have a different purpose, which it fulfilled handily.

John had never been in the doghouse with Hal, but it did feel like a public statement of, not apology, but acknowledgement. Not of having done wrong, either, because Hal didn’t blame like that, but more recognizing how Hal was woven into the workings of everything in James’ life and relationships. And if John wanted to be one of those relationships, he needed to understand where Hal fit in. And he had just gotten a lot closer to getting it.

James’ pup had rolled over for Hal, and then had been _overjoyed_ when Hal had given him what amounted to a pat on the head. It was, to be frank, very endearing. Hal had laughed in delight at John’s triumphant crow when they shook hands. His elation was infectious to say the least.

The moment John had moved away, James had wrapped his arms around Hal’s neck and kissed him on the cheek. It had felt less like a gesture of thanks, and more like wanting to show delight at two of his people sharing a moment of joy. Which really was the gift John had given with his gesture — a chance for James to see his lovers, not only on good terms, but sharing something lovely. Something hopeful.

Hal supposed the moment wasn’t just for James, though, as he now felt _much_ better about this whole thing — of sharing James with John as well as Thomas. If they were all in it together, they might have a chance.

_“Take my hand and we’ll make it, I swear.”_

James, flushed with glee, had finally run out of superlatives and offered to grab drinks for the table from the bar. Hal and Thomas both nodded and he left them watching the dancefloor fill up.

“He looked truly, actually unsure if you were going to take his hand,” Thomas said quietly.

“It was not something I was expecting,” Hal explained. “I’ve never had someone so publicly omega to me.”

Thomas barked out a laugh, then smirked impishly at Hal. “What he lacks in tact he makes up for in sincerity...”

“I’m learning that.” Hal smiled. “Remind you of anyone?”

“A _lot,_ actually. I’m glad you see it too.” Thomas leaned in, his voice dripping with gossipy tones. “Different modus operandi, different strengths and weaknesses, different goals, even. But the same underlying... _purpose,_ maybe. The same motivations.”

“Yes. Yeah, that makes sense. No wonder they work well together.”

“I think they will drive each other crazy at times, to be honest, but also that, yes.” Thomas leaned back, lips pursed, just as John bounced up to the table, still abuzz with post-performance energy.

“Hello, darling! Join us! Jamie’s getting drinks.” Thomas indicated his lap, since there wasn’t a fourth chair at the table, and John dropped onto it willingly. They kissed briefly, and when Thomas turned back to Hal, John rubbed his nose against Thomas’ temple for another second or two. Theirs was a simple PDA, not made for show or trying to be so private it made witnesses feel awkward, just sweet and comfortable. They looked really, fully together as a couple.

Hal wondered if James had seen them like this and how he felt about it. Not that he’d ask, as it wasn’t his place, but still.

_Speak of the devil and he appears..._

James set down four glasses, then sat between Hal and Thomas, his arms over the backs of both chairs. Beer in hand, Hal settled back as an invitation for James’ arm to migrate to his shoulders, which it did. Thomas was focused on John, who shifted to face James and seemed to now buzz at a higher frequency.

James either didn’t notice or very much did and was ignoring it. For his sake, Hal assumed. Once again, precious and annoying.

“We were just saying how great you were, John. Thanks for such a fun, sincere performance.”

John blushed at Hal’s praise — or maybe just from being in such close proximity to the two people he’d seen naked in the past week. “You’re very welcome, Hal. It was my pleasure.”

“It was everyone’s pleasure, to be sure. Not a bored face in the house,” Hal said to make sure John knew his praise was sincere.

“As long as _you_ enjoyed it...” John said, looking right at Hal, then over to James and Thomas.

“You know we did, baby,” Thomas said, his voice fond.

“Yes, thank you, pup,” James added, his hand reaching out to briefly touch John’s knee.

Hal was happy to notice no stab of jealousy at the gesture. It was G-rated as things like that went, but still. His possessive flare-up was clearly dying down.

_Thank God. That was no way to live._

“Anything for you, Jamie,” John was saying with a shy smile, his feet stretched out beneath James’ chair.

“ _Anything?_ Hmmm...” Thomas of course had to go there.

James’ lips twitched but he didn’t take the bait. As he adjusted his arm around Hal’s shoulder, he said, “So what’s the Valentine’s number going to look like, then?”

Both John and Thomas shook their heads.

“Nope. Not one word beforehand.” John said with an extra, emphatic shake of the head.

James laughed. “Fine. But may it be as big a hit as tonight’s was.” He raised his glass, and everyone joined him in the toast.

Thomas pushed the cascade of John’s curls away from his face and said, “Your moves tonight gave me an idea, though, hon. We should talk about it.”

John nodded. “Yes, good. Later.”

James asked, “Was it the snake hips in front of the microphone because that gave me ideas too...” He waggled his eyebrows cartoonishly, most assuredly for Hal’s benefit.

Both John and Thomas looked at James as if utterly scandalized, and Hal couldn’t help laughing. He added, “That was my favorite part, too, John. It felt like you embodied Gina for a moment, and it seemed to be the only bit of gender performance happening during your number.”

“Yeah...” John looked down at his drink as if reprimanded. “I could have done more with that, sorry.”

“No need to apologize to me, boy-o.” Hal spoke with real kindness. He liked this young man; that had never changed from the start.

“No, I know, It’s just... It’s not really in the spirit of what I’m trying to do with this troupe, but it was a throwback to the sort of numbers I did when I first started doing drag, before any sort of... transition stuff.”

That made sense to Hal. “Ah, fair. So back then the act of being masculine was the gendered part, and now because of how you present generally, it’s not.”

“Right. I guess I could have picked a real diva-type song or something — Adele or what have you —”

“But you’re not trying to be a queen, baby,” James said.

The endearment felt so natural that Hal didn’t even notice it until John glanced worriedly over at him. He smiled benignly, waiting for him to speak.

“True. But I could have done an Adele song in a masculine persona and that would have been more in line with what I’m going for, I think.”

“Ooooh, I like that,” Thomas said, his campy voice coming out a bit.

“Yeah, thought you would. It’s not a bad idea, actually. I’ll keep it on the back burner just for you.” John leaned against Thomas’ chest, clearly at home in his arms.

James, Hal noticed, looked at both of them with a face drenched in fondness.

“You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din,” Hal murmured to his partner.

“Hmm? What, babe?” James took a moment to tear his eyes away from his boys, and leaned in close to Hal.

Hal smiled fondly at his one boy, with a grateful heart. “You just seem happy for them. Well done.”

“Well, yeah. Look how happy they make each other.”

James tilted his head toward the far end of the table and Hal watched Thomas do that thing he’d done before where he gently tapped the tip of John’s nose with his fingertip. John blinked and giggled, then kissed Thomas’ finger.

It was tooth-achingly cute, but Hal found himself smiling from ear to ear.

“Yeah... I see what you mean."


	11. Wednesday, February 14th (Day Five)

****

**Johnny Pup:** Okay so.... when?

**Jamie Kitten:** When what?

**Johnny Pup:** When can I fuck you.  
**Johnny Pup:** Or you fuck me.  
**Johnny Pup:** Whichever. I don’t care.

**Jamie Kitten:** Tomorrow.

**Johnny Pup:** Ha Ha.

**Jamie Kitten:** I’m serious. The agreement was five days without you. The night you first fucked Thomas, Saturday, was day one. This is day five. Tomorrow I can see you.

**Johnny Pup:** 😱😢😫😭

**Jamie Kitten:** Sorry, baby. <3

**Johnny Pup:** But Today is Valentine’s Day!

**Jamie Kitten:** I know, I’m sorry. :*

**Johnny Pup:** This is homophobic.  
**Johnny Pup:** This week is cancelled.  
**Johnny Pup:** I’m so fucking over this.

**Jamie Kitten:** I know sweetheart, but I still need to be with Hal tonight. WithOUT distractions. We’re going out for dinner and having A Talk about the hiatus and what we want going forward.  
**Jamie Kitten:** PLEASE don’t text me after 7pm tonight.

**Johnny Pup:** Fine. I’m going to be with Thomas. Maybe He’ll be my Valentine. 🤨

**Jamie Kitten:** That’s a great idea. Tell him thank you from me.

**Johnny Pup:** It’s not about you. It’s about how close he and I have gotten this week.  
**Johnny Pup:** I really like him, James.

**Jamie Kitten:** That’s great, baby. I’m glad to hear it. <3

**Johnny Pup:** What if... I keep seeing him after tomorrow?  
**Johnny Pup:** If he wants that.

**Jamie Kitten:** Sounds great. I was hoping that would happen.

**Johnny Pup:** Yeah?

**Jamie Kitten:** If he makes you happy, and if he’s really as delighted with you as he seems to be, then yeah. Of course.

**Johnny Pup:** And maybe we can plan things so that the nights you stay home with Hal are the ones I spend with Thomas?

**Jamie Kitten:** Sounds perfect. <3  
**Jamie Kitten:** Except for when *I* want to spend the night with Thomas. :/

**Johnny Pup:** Oh. I guess I can’t be a part of that, huh?

**Jamie Kitten:** I mean, we could try a night with all three of us, if that’s what we all want...

**Johnny Pup:** Yeah! Maybe? Gotta ask him.

**Jamie Kitten:** Yeah. Tomorrow.

**Johnny Pup:** Do you need to go?

**Jamie Kitten:** I should, yeah.

**Johnny Pup:** Okay. See you tomorrow.

**Jamie Kitten:** YES :*

**Johnny Pup:** Have a good night with Hal! Xoxoxoxo

**Jamie Kitten:** Happy Valentine’s Day, pup!

**Johnny Pup:** Happy V-day, kitten! 😘

**Jamie Kitten:** <3 <3 <3

 

~~

 

**Johnny Silvertongue:** SOS  
**Johnny Silvertongue:** James is with Hal tonight and I’m... **😫**

**Tammy Gay Faker:** Yeah, tonight’s the last night.

**Johnny Silvertongue:** But it’s Valentine’s Day and I just...

**Tammy Gay Faker:** Oh babydoll. I’m sorry. No one thought of that, huh?

**Johnny Silvertongue:** Can we hang out tonight? You’re not busy, are you?

**Tammy Gay Faker:** Yeah, sweetheart. I’d love to see you tonight.

**Johnny Silvertongue:** Good. I need to drink. I’m so done with this.

**Tammy Gay Faker:** You really like him, don’t you?

**Johnny Silvertongue:** God, Tam. I know it’s stupid. It was supposed to be just a little fling, wasn’t it? That’s how he works normally, right? What even happened?

**Tammy Gay Faker:** You’re fucking marvelous and he’s a smart man.

**Johnny Silvertongue:** 😍  
**Johnny Silvertongue:** And just when he’d prolly have gotten bored with me, Hal said no, and he’s a contrary bastard, and... Voila!

**Tammy Gay Faker:** I mean, that’s not it at all, but...  
**Tammy Gay Faker:** Absence, and hearts growing fonder and all that...

**Johnny Silvertongue:** I guess I should thank Hal for the hiatus, huh?

**Tammy Gay Faker:** Ha! Maybe.  
**Tammy Gay Faker:** No, it wasn’t that.  
**Tammy Gay Faker:** It wasn’t, baby.

**Johnny Silvertongue:** How do you know?

**Tammy Gay Faker:** I Know.

**Johnny Silvertongue:** BLESS  
**Johnny Silvertongue:** I’m sorry I didn’t think this thru and plan to spend the evening with you from the start.

**Tammy Gay Faker:** Sweetheart, you’re fine. I didn’t invite you out either, did I?

**Johnny Silvertongue:** Yeah! Hey! Why not?? **😤**

**Tammy Gay Faker:** I don’t tend to celebrate V-day. It’s such a heteronormative holiday.

**Johnny Silvertongue:** Well then, let’s queer it TF up! 🌈❤🌈🎉

**Tammy Gay Faker:** Yes please! :D

**Johnny Silvertongue:** Hooray! See you later! ❤❤❤

 

~~

 

**JamiePants:** What if we shared custody on the cutest curly pupper ever?

**T.Hammy:** ?  
**T.Hammy:** Wait, you mean John?

**JamiePants:** Y  
**JamiePants:** You want to keep seeing him as well, right?

**T.Hammy:** Obvy. But this 'shared custody'... do you mean date him together or at the same time?

**JamiePants:** Unsure what he wants, so let’s play it safe.  
**JamiePants:** But you know my feelings about that.

**T.Hammy:** Usually, but not in this case.

**JamiePants:** You think I’d pass up a chance to spitroast that adorable poodle?

**T.Hammy:** Christ, Jamie. You’ll give me a heart attack with texts like that.

**JamiePants:** Heh.  
**JamiePants:** But think about it.

**T.Hammy:** I am, believe me. You are so not playing fair.

**JamiePants:** When have we ever had a rule where I needed to play fair?

**T.Hammy:** I’m going to meet him for drinks later. If I show up all hot and bothered, it’ll be unseemly. :}

**JamiePants:** My kingdom for a chance to ruffle your feathers right before you see him.

**T.Hammy:** Naughty boy. I’m telling Papa Bear.

**JamiePants:** I haven’t touched either of you for five whole days. That was the agreement.

**T.Hammy:** Says Jamesie “Letter of the Law” McFlint

**JamiePants:** If you think Henry McManus Gates hasn’t been sufficiently tended to these past few days...

**T.Hammy:** More than he bargained for, eh?

**JamiePants:** More than he’s asked for in the past three months, TBH.

**T.Hammy:** Careful, he might institute these hiatuses on the regular.

**JamiePants:** His heart couldn’t handle it.

**T.Hammy:** HA! Oh, that’s bad, baby. :’D

**JamiePants:** But true. I think he’ll be as relieved as I am that I’ll soon have distractions again.

**T.Hammy:** Yeah, the past couple weeks have threatened the equilibrium in many ways, huh?

**JamiePants:** The pendulum will swing back to normal soon.

**T.Hammy:** The New Normal, complete with curly poodle.

**JamiePants:** Yeah, we might have to strategize about that.  
**JamiePants:** But not tonight. I’m off to dinner with Hal in a bit. :*

**T.Hammy:** Have a lovely evening, darling! Happy V-day! Xoxoxo

**JamiePants:** You too, baby. Give our pup some lovin from me!

**T.Hammy:** I’ll let you do that yourself. Tomorrow! ;*

**JamiePants:** :P <3

 

~~

 

**Tammy Gay Faker:** OMG Look what Just Dropped: [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FuXNumBwDOM ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FuXNumBwDOM)

**Johnny Silvertongue:** Oh holyshit 😍😍😍

**Tammy Gay Faker:** New plan for V-day number?

**Johnny Silvertongue:** Yessssssssss  
**Johnny Silvertongue:** Omg seriously that would be amazing.  
**Johnny Silvertongue:** Still under-dressing tho right?

**Tammy Gay Faker:** Fuck yes. This works better for that anyway.

**Johnny Silvertongue:** TRUE Godddddd watching again.  
**Johnny Silvertongue:** <https://genius.com/Taylor-swift-me-lyrics>[  
](https://genius.com/Taylor-swift-me-lyrics)**Johnny Silvertongue:** The lyrics tho.

**Tammy Gay Faker:** Right?? Babe, I’m so excited about this. It’s gonna be amazing.

**Johnny Silvertongue:** Fuck yeah it is! I have so many ideas.

**Tammy Gay Faker:** Tonight. I know we said drinks, but maybe one drink and then we figure this out?

**Johnny Silvertongue:** Yes. Best V-Day Plan Ever. Can’t wait. 😘

 

~~

 

"Lovely meal, babe. Thank you."

"Of course, my love." James wiped his mouth and set his napkin on the table.

"It's been an age since we went out for a nice dinner. We—"

"Should do it more often," James ended Hal's sentence for him.

"Sure, but I was going to say how much we enjoy eating at home."

"That's because you're a stellar cook, babe."

Hal waved away the compliment. "I enjoy it. And you're fun to cook for."

"Because I'm so grateful I don't have to do it myself?"

"Because you'll eat anything I put in front of you."

James smirked. "Absolutely I will."

Hal didn't take the double entendre bait, but James hadn't really expected him to.

"Anyway, how was your week, my love?"

"You were there, Hal."

"You know what I mean," Hal grumped, shifting in his seat.

James took a deep breath before he began. "I'm not built to only be with one person. You know this. It's especially obvious when my engine gets revved up, like it's been recently. But getting to focus on us this week has been really great.”

“Also taxing.”

“A little bit. I admit I have been in touch with Thomas and John, but not touching them. I’ve very much enjoyed touching you.”

“I can tell,” Hal snorted. “ _I’ll_ admit your full focus is a lot to take, my love. I know it’s better for you to spread your attention around, but it’s also better for me. I think I’d forgotten that in the last couple years, how much you need.”

“I’m not as needy with anyone else, honestly. Not in the same way. You do things to me...” James let the suggestion hang, since they were in a restaurant.

“I know, babe. And I love giving you that grounding. I’m not against doing so any time you need it, so please ask. I’m just saying I’m glad you have other people to...” Hal was also trying not to say Not Safe For Work things in a public setting.

“Siphon off some of my need.”

“Well put. Thank you. Yes.”

“And the people I’ve chosen?”

“I’ll get to Thomas later, because I know you’re really asking about John, so....” Hal folded his hands on the table in front of him. “I’m glad you have him, and I have been since the beginning. I never wanted to keep you from dating him, I hope you know that.”

James nodded.

“It’s a truth universally acknowledged that James Flint needs a ‘pup’ in his life, and to be honest, I’ve been wanting you to settle on one for a long time. Cycling through them like you have done isn’t good for anyone.”

“You just didn’t want it to be John.”

Hal’s mouth formed a thin line for a moment before he continued to speak. “I wasn’t sure about John at first. I mean, he’s the charmingest little fuck you’ll ever meet, but I was worried he’d suck the air out of the room every time he got the chance, and I don’t have the energy anymore to compete with someone so young and beautiful.

“Instead, I think he just magnetized you in a way I haven’t seen in years, and it scared me how quickly you oriented yourself to him.”

“I didn’t change that much, did I?”

“James. Recently, you’ve been happy to have one pup every other _month,_  and then _he_ comes along and you're insatiable... How many times in those five days with him did you two find time to fuck?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud, but there was no lying to Hal. “...seven?”

Hal nodded, unsurprised. Of course he’d known. James didn’t keep secrets from Hal, not only because he didn’t want to, but because he _couldn’t._

“When was the last time you needed it that often?”

James had been trying not to think about the answer to this exact question since the first time Hal confronted him about John. He didn’t like to admit what it might mean.

“You. When I first started dating you.”

Hal nodded as if he’d made a point, and James rushed to protest. “This isn’t like that, though. I’m not—”

“Don’t, Jamie. Don’t defend yourself like you’re in trouble.”

James sat back and let Hal continue.

“I know some of that is because he’s an eager puppy as well, but my point is, I quickly realized it wasn’t John I needed to worry about. I wasn’t feeling jealous of your feelings for him, or your time — well, not really. I just realized how much I missed what it was like when you were oriented to me. I guess I just needed to feel that again, so that when I watched it happen with John later I wouldn’t feel like he was special.”

“You’re both special. Obviously, you mean the world to me—”

“Yeah, but I’m just saying, watching you get so focused on John... It’s different than some random pup. Or Thomas, of course. I’ve never seen you when you weren’t orbiting Thomas, so it doesn’t feel like there’s anything to lose with regard to him.”

“I don’t orbit—”

“You do. You have. To be fair, he orbits you, too. It’s one of those binary star system things.” Hal sighed as James shook his head in wonder. “Admit it, Jamie, for once. He’s the most important person in your life.”

“Thomas? He’s...” James’ thoughts spun out of control, headed in more directions than he could follow. “He’s _Thomas._ ”

“The love of your life.”

“No, that’s—”

“It’s not _me,_ I know that.”

“Hal, my darling, my heart.” James rested a hand on top of both of Hal’s, folded in front of him. “I don’t now nor never will have _one_ love of my life. The concept is absurd. If I have one then I actually have two, and if I can have two, it’s possible there will be more. But if you’re not including yourself in that number, then I’ve done a far worse job reassuring you than I thought.”

“We’ve built a good life, you and I. I’m proud of that. I don’t need some fancy term to name it.”

“Then stop using them for my other relationships. This is ridiculous. It wasn’t even Thomas that all of this bullshit was about.”

“Bullshit.” Hal deliberately pulled his hands out from under James’.

“This hiatus, this _sexile._ What the fuck was that even about if you were just going to sit here and tell me that I really love _Thomas,_ for God’s sake?”

“It had a point, you know.”

“Well hurry up and fucking get to it, then!”

Hal waited, unperturbed by James’ outburst.

James _hated_ when he did this. He’d just wait for James to calm down and only said his piece when he felt James was ready to actually hear it. It was, admittedly, the perfect tactic, but it sent James’ blood pressure through the roof for a good fifteen seconds.

When he’d calmed down, Hal spoke clearly and quietly, without a hint of malice. “I love you. I love our bar, I love our house, and I love our life. Because I love you, and I want our life to continue together, I want you to be happy. This week has reminded me that the best way to make you happy, is to let you love the people you love as freely as possible. Which at this point in our life together means letting go a bit.”

“Hal, I swear to God, if you break up with me, even for a week...”

“No, baby bear. None of that anymore.” Hal’s voice was nearly a purr and it calmed James more than he would ever admit. Not that Hal couldn’t see it, because of course he could. 

“Then what?”

“If there’s no love of your life, then it’s foolish to keep up the pretense that _this_ relationship is the most important in your life. Why not just have equal partners instead of sorting them into primary and secondary _and tertiary_ for fuck’s sake?”

James was dumbfounded. It took him a moment to find breath to speak. “Are... are you serious?”

“Why not? I think we’d all work better that way, especially now that you have an actual third partner instead of a revolving door placeholder thing.”

“This is something you want? You’re not just falling on your sword because you think it’ll make me happy?”

Hal shook his head. “We should have done this a long time ago, my love.”

James swallowed, hard. He couldn’t believe it. “I still want to live with you, though.”

“Yes, of course. I mean, I’d hoped so, but...”

“This is not a demotion, right? It’s just equalizing everyone?”

“Essentially, yes. That’s how I want to see it.”

James frowned. “It probably means more negotiations going forward than anyone could ever want.”

“I’ll stomach it for you, babe.” Hal acted the martyr, wrist to forehead, to make James laugh.

James chuckled but still balked at the entire idea, not because he didn’t want it in theory, but because it would mean so much change in so many areas.

Hal seemed to interpret his hesitancy perfectly, because he said, “Think about it. We don’t have to make any pronouncements right now, but it might be the best way to move forward. Let me know when you decide.”

“You’re a fucking dream, Hal. Best partner a man could have.”

“Don’t pick favorites now,” Hal laughed, a soft blush high on his cheeks.

“God forbid,” James joked in a campy voice. Hal chuckled deeply. “But I’m glad to be going home with you tonight.”

“Me too. Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

“You too, babe.”


	12. Thursday, February 15th

**12:01 AM**

****Tammy:** **

****** **

**Tammy:** Unwrapping a present. He says it's for you too, but I couldn’t wait. 🎁🍆😁

**Jamesie: 😢😭**

**Tammy:** I'm just checking to make sure the gift is worthy of your time and attention. Don't worry, I'll re-wrap it for you, bow and all. 💄👅🎀

**Jamesie: 😫🤯💀**

**Tammy:** [color?]

 **Jamesie:** [green. Hal’s asleep next to me. It was a good night.]

 **Tammy:** [good! I’m glad]

 **Johnny:** Come over! It’s after midnight! 🍌🌽🍭🍾

 **Jamesie:** Tempting, but I can’t.

 **Johnny:** Then we’ll just have to send more pics!

 **Jamesie:** ONE more. I need to sleep.

 **Tammy:** Oh fantastic. Now you’ve turned him into an amateur porn director.  
**Tammy:** Tell him the phone has to go away at some point.

 **Jamesie:** No actual dick pics, pup. I will delete them immediately if you send them.

 **Johnny:** Borrringggg 🙄

 **Jamesie:** Not sick of teasing me yet?

 **Johnny:** Hmmmm possibly never 😈

 **Jamesie:** Can you explain to him the law of diminishing returns, please?

 **Tammy:** Too much at once and he’ll become immune. You have to space it out, break it into small portions, keep him interested but not overstimulated. It’s an art.

 **Jamesie:** Tammy’s good at it.

 **Tammy:** Thanks, babe.

 **Jamesie:** 😘

 **Johnny:** How’s this?

**Jamesie:** 😳💦🥴

 **Johnny:** Don’t make me regret introducing you to emojis, old man.

 **Tammy:** 😂

 **Jamesie:** I’m going to sleep now. Enjoy your present, Hams. Pup, don’t keep him up too late. I’ll see you both tomorrow, yes?

 **Tammy:** YES!!

 **Johnny:** Fuck yes. God, I can’t wait.

 **Jamesie:** What’s Tammy, chopped liver? ;)

 **Johnny:** She can’t wait either. Got me hard earlier describing how she likes to suck you off.

 **Jamesie:** Mmm yeah. She’s good at that too. 🍾

 **Johnny:** Yeah, gonna see if she’ll show me how it’s done. 👅💦

 **Jamesie:** Enjoy. Goodnight babes. xoxoxo

 **Tammy:** 💋

 **Johnny:** 💕💕

 

~~

 

“Hey, you know, what’s super great?” John murmured sleepily.

“Getting to kiss your shoulder and neck like this?”

Thomas took full advantage of being the big spoon and swept John’s hair off his neck to kiss and lick and nibble until John moved past his performative moans to genuine soft gasps and squirming, pressing his bare ass back against Thomas’ spent cock.

“I mean, yes, God.” John shivered, clearly delighted by the attention and what his response was doing to Thomas. “But also, the number we’re gonna put on for everyone this weekend.”

“Fuck yeah it is,” Thomas replied, narrowly missing getting a mouthful of curls.

“I’m so glad we changed it. That song is so perfect and I can’t wait to — umff, Jesus, that feels good.”

“I know it does. You left a mark on me when you did it earlier.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because I make good choices — Ouch!” John laughed at the sharp nip to his shoulder. He turned his head, seeking a kiss, and Thomas was happy to indulge him.

John was the exact type of demanding, needy pup that Thomas enjoyed spoiling rotten. If James scolded him for it, all the better.

John lost himself in the kiss long enough that Thomas assumed they were done talking, which was fine with him.

“Mmm,” John nipped Thomas’ lip as he pulled away — a patently unfair move — and had the audacity to keep the conversation going. “You know what  _else_ is great? Getting to work on a joint number for the Valentine’s Day drag show with the person I’m currently, um, fucking.”

Thomas smiled as he nibbled John’s earlobe, his face deep in a nest of curls, his breath ghosting over a neck rife with goosebumps. “Babydoll?”

“Hm?” John’s breath was getting heavy and he pressed more insistently back against Thomas.

“Is there a reason you chose the word ‘fucking’?”

The pause before John spoke was eloquent but Thomas wasn’t certain what it was saying. Every part of John stilled except his eyes, which darted away from Thomas’. “Is there a different one I should be using?”

“Some people would call this dating, you know,” Thomas stage whispered, eyes comically wide, hoping to ease John’s mind.

“Is... Is that allowed?” John looked genuinely confused, which was the only reason Thomas didn’t snort in laughter.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because you don’t _date,_ do you? I thought you just had casual _things_ with a few people and didn’t really care if they were labeled — or some enlightened shit like that.”

This time, Thomas _did_ chuckle. “No, dear heart. James and I have a long-standing _thing,_ though I don’t think I’d call it casual, and I haven’t labeled it only because I figured it would spook James if I did. Otherwise, I do the normal things with other people — sometimes a one-night stand, sometimes a more extended fling, sometimes an involved relationship.”

“Well, _okay,_ so here’s my problem,” John said animatedly. He turned fully onto his back, draping his legs over Thomas’ bent knees, and stared at the ceiling. “We’re right near the cusp — aren’t we? — between a fling and a relationship. And I dunno if I ask you to be my Valentine if that’s crossing a line or pre-empting something you weren’t planning on continuing after tomorrow, or...?”

“God, you’re adorable.” Thomas kissed John’s cheek, and when he turned to look quizzically at Thomas, he caught those ruby lips full-on. A surprised noise came from John as he eagerly accepted the kiss, though he still looked confused when Thomas pulled back. "Yes please. But to be clear, when you say 'Valentine', you actually mean you want to be my boyfriend, right?"

John startled and frowned, so Thomas tried again. "Or if this doesn't feel like a boyfriends situation we can be something else to each other. I might like that, actually."

"Like... friends with benefits?"

"Like non-gendered date-friends, baby," Thomas said sweetly. Then he chuckled. "I definitely don't need another friend with benefits."

"Oh, I..." John's eyes grew wide and bright. "I dunno. I mean,  _yes_ I want to date you if that's something you're into, but... is date-friend really an option?" 

“Oh, sweetheart. Of course. Whatever you want to call us, I'm on board. Because I'm not sure that what we are with each other is _boy_ friends."

"I mean, I kinda love how James treats me exactly like every other boy he's been with, but you..." John snuggled closer to Thomas, head tucked under his chin and against his shoulder. "Everything with you is so much softer.  _I_ feel so much softer. It's a weird relief, honestly." 

Thomas nodded but stayed quiet, just kissed John's head and held him close. 

"Not that I'm posturing or being something I'm not with James or anything, that's just... a different part of me. And this part also wants to be dating someone. You know?"

More nodding was all that was necessary.

"But like, also..." John looked archly up at Thomas, his voice cheeky. "Date-friend is  _not_ an inspiring term, darling."

"True. It was the best I could come up with on the fly, though. How about sweetheart?"

"Yes, good." 

"Perfect. Now ask me again," Thomas said with a tiny toss of his hair.

John sighed, but then turned to look fully at Thomas, his smile a mix of silly and sincere. "Tammy darling, will you be my sweetheart?"

"Yes, absolutely. I’d dearly love to date you, Johnny baby."

John giggled and cheered; his kiss was rough and ardent. 

Thomas hummed and pulled back slightly to add, "And even more, I’d be truly delighted to be your sweetheart while you were also James' boyfriend. How does that sound? I can be your Valentine, and you can also be his. And he can be mine.”

“You think that will work?” Before Thomas could start nodding enthusiastically, John added, “You think Gates will be okay with it?”

“Is that not what we learned last night? I doubt he would have taken your hand if he wasn’t okay with it.”

“I dunno, I dunno. I just didn’t want him to hate me, and was hoping he’d let me apologize without skinning me alive in front of the whole town.”

“You know darling, sometimes I can’t tell when you’re serious, and it makes me worry about what sort of community you had before you moved here.”

“A shitty one. Let’s leave it at that.”

Thomas wanted to hug his sweetheart tight, but the way any line of inquiry had just been completely shut down meant that he didn’t feel like he could initiate touch like that at the moment.

“I’m deeply sorry to hear it. You deserved better.”

“I was a fucking asshole for a number of years. I’m not sure that I did.”

“Look me in the eyes right now, John Silver.” Thomas kept his voice soft but also not to be trifled with. John obeyed, but when he did Thomas’ heart broke.

His eyes were filled with fear.

“You, John Silver, deserve good things. You deserve good people, and healthy, caring relationships from friends and lovers alike. You deserve to be treated with respect and dignity and to have the ability to walk away from relationships and people that don’t treat you that way.”

John’s eyes were glassy but never wavered from Thomas’ deeply sincere face. “Everyone in this community believes these things about each other, including you, and they will treat you the way you deserve, which is the way they deserve to be treated as well. You are safe to be yourself here with us — as many selves as you may have — and we will help you be your best selves, as we all work to be the best people we can be.” 

He chuckled at himself, since John had gone back to staring blankly at the ceiling, and added self-consciously, “That may sound cheesy as hell but I truly believe—”

An excitable puppy pounced on him, basically. John bowled Thomas over until he was on his back and hugged the stuffing out of him. Thomas hadn’t been held so tightly in many years, actually, and the ferocity and intimacy of it squeezed tears out of him, especially when he could feel John shaking from his own emotions.

“Oh honey,” Thomas said, wrapping his arms tight around John. “I got you. We all do. All the gals, and your troupe, and Max, and of course Jamie... Stick with us, sweetheart.”

There was an attempt at a subtle sniff before John managed to croak out, “Thank you, Tammy. I will. It’s just all new. I don’t really matter to people much so this...” He just shook his head, nuzzling deeper into the crook of Thomas’ neck.

Thomas simply held John tight for as long as he managed to stay awake, which was long past when John fell asleep on him.

 

~~

 

 **Johnny Pup:** Tonight??

 **Jamie Kitten:** TONIGHT!!

 **Johnny Pup:** \o/  
**Johnny Pup:** What do you want?

 **Jamie Kitten:** Everything :P

 **Johnny Pup:** Ha, fair.  
**Johnny Pup:** *Who* do you want?

 **Jamie Kitten:** You??

 **Johnny Pup:** Tammy too?

 **Jamie Kitten:** OH.  
**Jamie Kitten:** What does she want?

 **Johnny Pup:** You. :P

 **Jamie Kitten:** Along with you?

 **Johnny Pup:** I think No. I think you two should have time together just you.  
**Johnny Pup:** But maybe can I spend the night? I miss your body next to mine.

 **Jamie Kitten:** Yes please. As long as THam is okay with that.

 **Johnny Pup:** Let’s ask.  
**Johnny Pup:** In the group text.

 

~~

 

 **Jamesie:** Hey, loves. Glad to be back in the loop for real.

 **Johnny:** Tams, can I have Jamie tonight if I promise you two get time together earlier in the evening?

 **Jamesie:** I don’t have to work, so maybe we could have dinner?

 **Tammy:** Jamesie Flint. Are you asking me out on a *gasp* date?

 **Jamesie:** Yes? Yeah.  
**Jamesie:** Yeah, I am. For V-day, even. ;)

 **Tammy:** Well then, I accept. :D  
**Tammy:** And yes, Johnny, you can have him later. We’ve got time now and I’m not in a rush.

 **Johnny:** \o/  
**Johnny:** We’ve got timeeeeeeee

 **Tammy:** Jamie, why no work?

 **Jamesie:** Hal said he’d get Billy to cover the bar. It won’t be that busy of a night. Everyone will be gearing up for tomorrow.

 **Johnny:** BLESS HIM

 **Tammy:** A prince among men, that Henry Gates.

 **Jamesie:** Truly.  
**Jamesie:** Seven okay? Our place?

 **Tammy:** Perfect. It’s been ages.

 **Johnny:** James, you’re going to cook for him?

 **Jamesie:** Ha, no. We have a restaurant we used to go to. Greek food. Lovely atmosphere.

 **Tammy:** Beautiful Greek waiters.

 **Johnny:** AHA. Nice. Enjoy, dears!  
**Johnny:** Jamie, text me when you want me.

 **Tammy:** Stay out of trouble till then, pup.

 **Johnny:** :P

 **Tammy:** :*

 **Jamesie:** Y’all are ridiculous.  
**Jamesie:** Love it. <3

 

~~

 

When Thomas walked into the restaurant, James’ heart skipped a beat.

It hadn’t done that for him in years.

To be fair, Thomas looked _good._ He’d dressed in chic clothes that flattered his thin frame but also softened the sharp lines. The color palette was pastel as well, mostly pink and purple, and it looked lovely against his skin and hair in the soft light.

James felt dumpy in comparison. He’d tried somewhat, with his standard collared shirt, suit jacket, and dark, well-fitting jeans. When Thomas caught sight of him his eyes sparkled with hunger, which meant he hadn’t fucked up that much, at least.

He stood to kiss Thomas’ cheek as he reached the table, even went so far as to pull the chair out for him. Thomas gave him a coy yet quizzical look, head tilted at a jaunty angle.

“It’s our first date in ages, I thought I’d step up my game.”

“Well played. But we don’t have to be formal about it. I’m just excited to spend time only the two of us.”

“What if I _want_ to be formal about it? What if I plan on ordering us a long, multi-course dinner with wine pairings and dessert to share? Hmm?”

“Are you paying?”

James huffed a laugh at Thomas’ remark, knowing full well it was more about the chivalrous nature of the gesture than the money itself. “Yes, of course. I’m the one who asked you out, after all.”

“Then be as formal as you like.” Thomas primly placed his napkin on his lap and smoothed it over his knee.

Reaching out for Thomas’ hand, James said, “I plan to.” When Thomas placed his fingers in James’ palm with an arched eyebrow, James maintained eye contact while kissing his knuckles.

“Well...”

Thomas only said that when he had nothing else to say. James called it a win and gave Thomas his best sly half-smile.

Predictably, Thomas blushed.

And just as predictably, James relished it.

“Shall I order for us?”

“I’ve eaten every last thing on this menu over the years and have yet to find something I don’t like, so have at it,” Thomas said, setting his menu aside.

“I’ve got you, love.” It was rare to get Thomas in a mood like this, where he let James take the wheel, and James had forgotten how fun it was.

An absolutely gorgeous Greek waiter came over and James tried not to smile at how attentive Thomas suddenly was. James ordered wines and appetizers, entrees and sides for both of them while Thomas stared at the grecian pup and nodded with approval at James’ choices. A little thrill ran through James with every nod he received.

When their first wine was poured, James raised his glass and said, “To this _thing_ we have. May it never falter, only grow how we want it to feed us.”

Thomas nodded, eyebrows up, and drank to the toast, but shortly after he asked. “Do you really think our thing should grow?”

“It’s grown enough to add another person into the mix, so there’s that, but also yes, why not? Unless you like how it is?”

Thomas took the time to set his glass down before answering. "I like how it _was,_ before your spree the last couple years..."

James winced. "I know I wasn't the best person to be around then."

"You were just angry and taking it out on others in ways they didn't understand."

_Ouch. Bullseye._

Humbled, James added, "And you _did_ understand, which is why I couldn't take anything out on you."

"Because I wouldn't _let_ you. I knew better than that." He stared at James for a moment, then added, "But I shouldn't have abandoned you, and for that I'm sorry."

"What? No. You left me to my own ill-advised and unplanned devices. There's no shame in that, my dear."

"Friends don't let friends fuck that many twinks."

James laughed, Thomas smirked back. “I did let it go to my head...”

“You let it go to your _head._ ” Thomas pointed at his own lap to show his meaning.

Rolling his eyes, James couldn’t help smiling as he leaned in to murmur, “I should have let you fuck some sense into me, honestly.”

“You know, I’ve said that very thing many times. You always have needed a good fucking to come to your senses.”

“I’m now available for that sort of thing again, you know.” James waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh honey, I _know._ But you seem to be figuring things out yourself, and I’m happy to wait my turn.”

The waiter brought their dish of saganaki, and expertly lit it on fire. Thomas, ever the diva, of course yelled “Opa!” along with the waiter, adding in some jazz hands for effect. James smiled indulgently at him.

Thomas was a delight of a human. Always had been. And James was a lucky bastard to have found him so early and been able to keep him the whole time. To be fair, it wasn’t a normal sort of keeping, more of a proximal co-existence, but it had worked for them for 25 years, and for that James was grateful.

Honestly, the idea of changing this thing up at all had always scared him. He knew Thomas had better things to do than stick around while he failed at being a good partner to him, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t at least try.

“If it were to grow..."

"Your head?" Thomas was busy cutting the crispy, gooey cheese into pieces.

“The thing,” James deadpanned, handing Thomas a piece of bread to put his cheese on.

“It already has, like you said. John is a part of things now, and I don’t think he’s going to leave any time soon.” Thomas handed the bread back to James, topped with saganaki, and took another piece for himself. “Honestly, I wouldn’t let him leave if he tried.”

“No? That doesn’t sound like you,” James said before taking a salty, crusty bite.

“No, it doesn’t sound like _you._ _He_ needs to be needed. You fear it.”

James nearly choked swallowing his mouthful to answer. “I don’t... _fear_ it. I’m just not someone to be relied upon.”

“You come through for your friends all the fucking time, Jamie. It’s your fear of commitment, is all.”

“I’m committed! I’ve been with Hal for like ten years! We built a business together. And I’m still with _you_ 25 years later...”

“Because I’ve never asked you to commit to anything in your life, let alone me. If I knew what sort of witchcraft Hal has been using...”

Thomas trailed off and took a bite of his cheesy bread. James just looked at him while he chewed and finally said, “What would you do?”

“If I had the same power as Hal?” Thomas said, a hand in front of his half-full mouth.

James nodded. Thomas swallowed.

“I’d make sure I got to have you more than once every couple months. I’d have date nights on the regular. I’d...” He set his bread down in the exact center of his plate, then looked directly into James’ eyes. “I’d get to wake up often with the sun on your hair spread across my pillow and see your sleepy smile first thing in the morning.”

Thomas’ words transported James back to their university days, when they’d made a habit of spending the night in Thomas’ bed, not even because they were fucking, just up late studying or watching movies or drinking wine and talking. Sometimes also fucking, but that had happened more a bit later on.

The time James remembered was waking up one morning after a late night of studying, sort of cramped together in Thomas’ single bed, with the sun streaming in and Thomas looking at him in such an impossibly soft way. The moment had been ethereal, eternal, out of time, something that felt both so perfect it had to be impossible, and also like it could easily be the most possible thing, even far into the future, as long as he didn’t break the spell.

It had both frightened and elated James, because it was the first time he had recognized feeling something akin to actual true romantic love for Thomas. For any man. He’d basked in it and let it warm him to his toes in the moment, but didn’t have the guts to do anything about it right then. He hadn’t been ready. Not yet.

And then later he’d shied away from the feeling and insisted it wasn’t real — that he’d possibly even dreamed it. That he and Thomas were just friends, and sometimes they fucked because they trusted each other and it felt good.

It was a lie he’d told himself for years, until they were old enough — and his relationship with Hal had become established enough — that using the word ‘love’ no longer carried the same kind of weight that might have shattered whatever they had. That thing that had felt so tenuous, so fragile.

It had taken James years — decades, really — to realize that it had only felt that way because their love had been so new, and if he’d only fed and watered it, it would have grown strong and healthy and could have supported so much more than they’d ever put on it.

_He’d been a fool and a coward._

James reached across the table to take Thomas’ hand. “I’ve loved you all this time. You know that right?”

“Sometimes.” Thomas looked down at their joined hands. "Love has many different ways of manifesting, and I will always be grateful for the staying power of ours."

"You've deserved so much more than staying power, dear heart. I want to be more than just the one that’s been around the longest, for fuck's sake."

“Don’t belittle that, love. A huge part of loving someone is showing up.”

James squeezed Thomas' hand. "Which is how I know you love me."

Thomas smiled.

"I don't want to pretend anymore that this isn't an incredibly important _thing,_ ” James said. “We talk about being each others’ exceptions but what if taking this seriously was the rule, instead?"

"Whatever you want, love."

"No, how about whatever _you_ want for a while?"

Thomas' smile broke into a sassy grin. "Hmmm, yes please."

"Within reason," James amended with a raised eyebrow.

"You're no fun," Thomas pouted for effect.

"But you love me anyway."

"Yes, I do, God help me." Thomas crossed himself dramatically and James laughed.

Their entrees came and they spent much of the meal chatting about things of little import, enjoying their food and each other's company. After the pretty waiter brought their dessert and glasses of ouzo —  and Thomas had gotten the guy's number — Thomas looked at James with clear, penetrating eyes and asked, "So, Hal's figured out his John stuff?"

“Yeah. He figured out a lot of stuff this week. More than I had, honestly.”

“Ah, the good old Hal Dispenses Wisdom talk. You’ve been a bit overdue for one of those, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, _now_ you tell me. I wasn’t ready for it _at all._ ” Thomas chuckled and James grinned at him before continuing. “But he had some really good points.”

“Such as?”

“This,” James said with a soft smile. “Us being _something,_ not just _a thing_.”

“ _He_ wants that?”

“He wants me happy. If elevating this thing to the same level as my thing with him makes me happy, then he’s all for it.”

“This thing between you and I?”

James nodded. Thomas poured a bit of water into his ouzo and it clouded over. They both watched it swirl and become opaque before Thomas spoke again.

“What about the thing with you and John? And by the way, how separate is that going to be from _my_ thing with him?”

“Hal and I only talked about the shift from a primary/secondary paradigm to three equally important partners. I wanted to ask you about John stuff though.”

Thomas looked up at James and his vulnerability caught in James’ throat. “I want him in a real way, Jamie. And he needs so much care I think it’ll easily take two of us to do it right.”

“He _is_ a bit of a handful,” James said lightly, trying to regain composure. Thomas didn’t talk about his lovers like this, and James had to swallow the lump in his throat.

“He’s had it rough and needs some serious TLC.” Thomas looked legitimately worried about their pup. James frowned, no longer jealous, only concerned.

“Do we need to strategize? Rethink our approach? Enlist backup?”

“I think simply being open to let him unpack his feelings and checking in with each other about how he’s doing — and if we’re carrying too much — should do it. He’s so fucking special, and I think you and I can give him what he deserves.”

James cleared his throat before saying, “I’ve never heard you talk about a pup this way.”

“I’ve never found one so worth of my time.” Thomas leaned back, resting his limp wrist on his crossed knee as if he were judging a sea of reality show contestants and John was his newest project.

“Well I’m all for it, though you might have to get me up to speed on some stuff, if you think that’s not violating privacy.”

“I can work in broad strokes and let him fill in details when he’s ready for you to know them.”

James nodded, taking a thoughtful sip of ouzo.

Thomas looked down into his glass and mumbled, “But also, you really wanna be _something_ together?”

“We already are, baby. I’ve just been ignoring it because...” he shrugged.

“It’s scary.”

The assessment ruffled James’ feathers but it wasn’t far off the mark. “I guess?”

“No, it is,” Thomas insisted softly. “I’m telling you it _is._ For me.”

“For you?”

“I don’t know how to be an actual partner to you, Jamie. Not really. Not how I’m sure you’d need it.”

“Okay but... that’s my fear too.”

Thomas huffed an unamused laugh. “We’re really bad at this.”

James nodded, adding, “Just think if we’d spent all those years we were afraid of being bad at it just learning how to be  _good_...”

“That’s fucking depressing and I refuse to think about that.”

“Amen. But also, I can just _tell_ you how I need you to be my partner, because I’m pretty sure it’s nothing like how I need Hal to be my partner, or John for that matter...”

“Oh. Truth, grrrl. I could tell you some _things_ I’ve _learned..._ But also, T-B-H, you already know a lot of how to do it right.”

James' cheeks flushed hot and he looked down at the table. “Oh, darling. That’s a real kindness. Thanks for that.”

“Of course, honey. You pay such close attention, when you aren’t busy with other things. It’s like being illuminated by a lighthouse.”

“Sorry, what is?”

“Being with you.”

“I’m a lighthouse?” James chuckled unsure he was following.

“Effectively, yes. When your light is trained on someone, it’s bright as fuck, and shows them the exact way to come into harbor. But when it swings to another part of the coast, the dark feels even deeper, and if they try to move close they’ll be scuttled on the rocks.”

“Well... fuck.” James’ heart dropped into his stomach at the truth of the analogy.

“It’s never been a bad thing for me, but that’s because I know not to try to come to port when the light is elsewhere. I just keep my distance until the light comes back to show me the way.”

James rested his elbows on the table and hung his head low, his ouzo glass cupped between his hands, and stared at the coffee bean floating in the clear liquid. “That sounds treacherous. Frankly horrific. Have you always felt like that?”

“It’s the ebb and flow of your attention over a long span of time, not some yo-yo rollercoaster I’ve been on too long. It’s fine. I’ve got the knack of it now. Have had for years.”

Choking up, James spoke fiercely. “I should have kissed you that morning with the sun on your pillow and your fond, loving eyes welcoming me in.”

Thomas’ eyes gleamed bright, glassy, and he pressed his lips together in a grateful smile before speaking. “You wouldn’t be part owner of The Frigate right now if you had.”

“Maybe not. Or maybe you would have gotten bored with me years ago.”

“Maybe...” Thomas swirled his glass. “But maybe not.”

“I don’t deserve you,” James hadn’t meant for it to sound so sincere, even if it was exactly how he felt.

“Oh yes you do, baby. Every last ridiculous, troublesome bit of me.” Thomas tossed imaginary long hair over his shoulder with a proud smile, challenging James to defy him.

“My best girl...” James said with a sweet smile as he leaned over the table. “C’mere.”

Thomas looked around the room, subtly checking to make sure the waiter was watching, then kissed James softly, sweetly, _slowly_ on the lips.

They took their time, and yet kept it mostly chaste, just revelling in the quiet intimacy, the steady affection, the years upon years of kisses that had laid the groundwork for this one, and many more to come.

“I love you, pup.”

The warmth that flowed through Thomas’ words directly into James’ chest reminded him of how perfectly they fit. He hadn’t heard that word directed at him in years and it should have been jarring, but instead it was so _so_ welcome. “Love you too, darling.”

When Thomas started to speak again the words were already on James’ lips, and they laughed as their voices synchronized, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

 

~~

 

John’s knee bounced uncontrollably as he played a video game he didn’t even like, in an attempt to ignore his phone.

He’d been obsessively checking it, making sure the sound was on, wondering if he for sure had service in his room, and he’d had to stop himself when he almost texted Jack just to make sure texts were coming through.

_It was fine. He said he’d text. Have faith._

John was not big on faith, especially when it came to having faith in other people. Historically, that had not worked out for him very well.

And then James came through, like a champ, because for once in his life, John had chosen a good one.

 **Jamie Kitten:** My place in 20min?

 **Johnny Pup:** Yes Please  
**Johnny Pup:** Is Hal home?

 **Jamie Kitten:** Yep but I should be there in 10 and he’s already reading upstairs.

 **Johnny Pup:** Perfect  
**Johnny Pup:** See you soon! OMG!

 **Jamie Kitten:** KISS you soon!

 **Johnny Pup:** \o/

It took about 15min to get to James’ house, so John looked through and re-packed his bag of tricks, made sure his pack-and-play cock looked good in his jeans, checked his hair at least three times, and ran out the door to hop on his scooter.

Twelve minutes later he parked in the Flint-Gates driveway and looked closely at the lights in the house. The upstairs bedroom lights were on, but there was only one on the first floor and it wasn’t in the bedroom or the kitchen.

John sat on the back steps and played a dumb game on his phone — one that blocked out the time in the corner of his screen — until a light at the back of the house went on. Then he stood up and knocked softly at the back door.

“Did I miss a text? I didn’t hear your scoo—”

The door wasn’t fully open but John was already through it, stepping directly into James’ arms and kissing him hard. A moment of shock later, James’ buried his hands in John’s hair and kissed back just as eagerly. John hummed his delight into James’ mouth and pressed their bodies together.

Sure, he’d had Thomas nearly every night the last week, but _God_ he’d missed this. James grunted at a bite to his lip and crowded John up against the door, closing it as they went.

The door clicked shut with John’s full weight against it just as James’ mouth started trailing down his neck, beard tickling as he went. The needy whimper John let escape seemed to bring James to his knees.

“May I?” James asked, breathless. His hands were already on John’s belt.

“Go ahead, baby. I packed your favorite.” John tried to control his breath as James unwrapped the silky, pink, bendy cock he loved so much.

There, at the base, just in front of the harness’ O-ring, was a red ribbon tied in a bow.

James barked out a laugh and looked up at John with shining eyes. “From Thomas?”

John chuckled and nodded, cupping James’ chin. “With love.”

“Appropriate,” James said with a shake of his head as he untied it. “Appropriative, as well, but that’s Thomas.”

“He’s not trying to claim me, he just likes to be included.”

“He can’t stand the idea of not being in on this, huh?”

“He fucked me in a pre-emptively jealous sort of way earlier...”

“Fuck.” James took a deep breath. “That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.”

“I think he hoped it would get to you.” John’s face flushed hot but he refused to say that the entire time Thomas fucked him, he’d been dirty-talking about leaving marks for James to find and how much he would enjoy them. John desperately hoped what he’d said was true.

“Well, here,” James said, holding out his right wrist and the ribbon. “Tie it on so he can be here with us.”

John smiled as he complied, watching James’ focus slip from his own wrist to John’s cock. He pressed his face against it, lips brushing dryly against the silicone, burying his nose in the leather and curls at its base and inhaling deeply.

_He must have missed this as much as John did._

Seeing the truth of that quieted the little voice in the back of John’s head that had been telling him he’d been the only one suffering this whole time.

When John had tied the ribbon firmly on James’ wrist, he slid a condom out of his back pocket and handed it to James, whose eyes never left the cock as he ripped the packet open and rolled the condom on.

Something about that act made a small, fragile part in John’s chest curl up in a warm ball and purr. It was simply the fact that James used barriers with everyone but Gates for all the reasons that partners fluid-bonded with only each other. Because to James, all of those reasons still applied to John’s cock, even thought it was obviously not going to leak fluids that could give James an STI anytime soon. It may have been a slight inconvenience, but it was an equal-opportunity inconvenience that John shared with every other partner James had ever had. And, as he'd said to Thomas, that felt so so good.

_A strange sort of compliment, maybe but there it was._

It got John hot as fuck.

James already had his mouth on the latex, licking and slurping while rocking the base hard and slow. He was so fucking eager to suck it that John whimpered softly at the sight. James glanced up then took nearly the whole length in his mouth and hummed around it. John gasped at the vibration coursing through the strap between his legs.

“Fuck, you’re amazing. You love it so much, don’t you?”

James nodded awkwardly, the cock still in his mouth. John slid his fingers into the hair at the back of James’ head and made a tight fist, then pushed James’ head down an inch or so. James didn’t resist at all, just took the full length of him and swallowed. John’s hips hitched just slightly and James made a choking noise. He knew he needed to let go of James’ hair so he could pull off and breathe, but Christ did he want to fuck that man’s throat.

“All right?” John said as he released his grip.

James nodded, backing off and wiping spit off his beard.

John took a deep, steadying breath. They were still standing in the _kitchen,_ for fuck’s sake. He let his head rest against the back door and contemplated fucking James on the kitchen island.

_No, too high. The angle was all wrong._

Time to ask. “What do you need, kitten?”

“You.”

“Obviously. But how? If I could fuck both ends of you at once, I would, but you’re gonna have to...”

James frowned, his eyes glittering in interest as John’s face lit up. “What? Oh... Did you bring—”

“Yeah. You know I like options.” John smiled, giddy at the possibilities. “So I guess you actually _don’t_ have to choose if you don’t want to.”

“Well thought.” James was doing that thing where his eyes were darting everywhere but John’s face, which meant his mind was racing. “Did you bring the blue one?”

“Yep. Wanna suck it while I fuck you with this one?” John was already rifling through the bag he’d dropped on the counter the moment he was in the door.

“Have I sucked that one yet?”

“Yes.” John pulled out the lube while he kept looking for the blue cock. It was wrapped in a lavender bandana... “No. Sorry. Thomas has, you haven’t.”

“Oof,” James said with a generous smile. “Rub it in why don’t you...”

“It’s not a race to the moon, Jamie. Getting there second is just as good.”

“Ha, true. But actually...” James stood up and leaned in to peer into John’s bag, hooking his chin over John’s shoulder. “Can I have one I’ve sucked before? I want it to feel like you at both ends.”

John’s vision blurred for a second, he was so turned on by James’ request.

_Christ. Had anyone ever said anything hotter to him?_

James’ hands wrapped around his hips as John tried not to sway on his feet. After a deep breath, in and out, he was able to search through the bag until he found what James wanted.

He unwrapped the light pink hanky and showed off the black cock they’d first played with. It was his oldest one and he had a special emotional attachment to it. It felt the most like _his cock._ “It’s got a suction base so it’ll stick to the wall or floor while you suck it.”

“On my knees while you fuck me.” James swallowed as he looked at it hungrily.

“That was my thought, yes.”

“Great minds...”

They made their way quickly to the bedroom.

 

~~

 

James’ mind was blank and his mouth and ass were full, which was possibly the ideal state to be in.

John’s forceful thrusting rhythm was setting the pace for James’ mouth on the black cock, so all he had to do was let it happen to him — let John fill him at both ends, deep enough to press against both his uvula and his prostate. It was damn near bliss.

“You’re so good, baby. God, the way you suck me is fucking gorgeous... I could watch it for hours.” John grunted as he snapped his hips sharply against James’ ass, pushing hard into James’ hole and switching up their rhythm just enough to choke James slightly with his cock.

_Fuck this was good. A perfect wet dream._

His other partners had tried to fill him both ways before — Thomas with long fingers in his mouth and Hal with a plug up his ass — but neither of them had ever put one of their dicks in each of his holes.

The perfection of knowing intimately the feel and taste of each cock inside him — knowing deeply that both of them were John’s cock — was bringing him to the edge faster than he thought possible.

He was leaking onto the sheets from John driving home over and over, right against the sweet spot, and his beard was covered in spit from sucking so messily, at the whim of John’s rhythm.

“Kitten?” John slowed and evened out his rhythm when he asked questions he needed answers to, so James tried to pay attention.

His hum around the cock rose in an inviting question. John gasped. James inwardly preened.

“Fuck, baby. I wanna feel you come around me.” James started to nod but John wasn’t finished. He stroked James’ hips and lower back as he spoke. “But see, honey, I can’t feel you with my dick like I want to. So I was thinking... Since you’re all stretched out from taking Hal all week, can I add a finger or two?

James stalled out at the idea of being even more filled than he already was. Their movements stopped for a bit and all James could hear was the harsh rasp of John’s breath.

“Please, baby?”

_Yes. God yes._

He could take it, and more importantly, he wanted to give that feeling to John. He’d never actually realized John’d never felt it before.

He nodded, or tried to, with the cock in his mouth, then pushed back far enough to slide off. “Fuck yes. Feel it. Feel what you do to me.”

“Oh Jamie. I do. In so many ways. But this one...” He paused for a moment and James waited patiently, hard and messy, his skin buzzing, waiting for John to tell him what happened next.

After a moment, John made a soft noise and pulled out of James’ ass. James slumped a bit at the loss, resting his forehead on the mattress, canting his hips slightly to feel the slick tip of his cock rub against the sheets — a tantalizing tickle.

“Okay, Kitten. Up.” James rose onto his hands and knees as John’s palm pressed against his asscheek, spreading him. “Gonna fill this needy hole right up for you, baby. You ready?”

James nodded and hummed assent, head hanging low.

“Good. I’ll go slow, but I know you can take it.”

James started nodding again, but a slick pressure against his hole stopped him. The nudge became insistent and he backed up to it, bearing down against three points of stretch to his rim.

He winced only slightly as he took John’s cock and two fingers inside. He would have taken John’s whole fist if he’d asked; this was nothing.

“Oh God, baby. Look at you. Taking me like a champ. Fucking gorgeous.” John bent over James’ back, his mouth so much closer to James’ ear. “Now suck my cock again, and if you’re good, I’ll let you come.”

A desperate whimper escaped James as he raised his head to where John’s black cock was stuck to the wall. He wrapped his lips around the head and John hissed as he pushed in as far as he could with the angle of his hand. It wasn’t quite deep enough but the stretch was good, and filling his mouth helped, too.

The drag of fingers against James’ hole as John pushed in and pulled out again was acute — a hair's breadth away from painful — which was absolutely perfect. James moaned at the feeling with John’s cock deep in his mouth. Mid-moan, John hitched his hips extra hard and pushed the tip of the cock into James’ throat, cutting off his breathing.

He held James in that position as he moved his fingers inside. If he’d been able, James would have cried out at the intensity of sensation. Instead he swallowed around the head of John’s cock to keep from choking.

Just when he thought he couldn’t handle anything more, John drew back until he’d nearly pulled out — enough for James to back off and breathe for a moment — before slamming back home.

 _“Fuck. Ffuh...”_ The knuckles were a lot to take that fast, like speed bumps they jolted pleasure/pain through him.

But John had held onto his hips tight enough to keep him from rocking forward into the black cock and he was grateful for another second of breath.

Until he lost it completely because John brushed the fingertips of his free hand along James’ hard, leaking cock.

His skin was on fire, electric shocks were running through his spine and limbs, as well as his balls and cock, and he wanted to weep from the handling his hole was getting.

It was fucking incredible, all of it.

“John, Johnny, please...”

“Please what, baby?”

“I’m close, I’m...” Words were becoming hard. He squeezed his eyes closed to try to hold on.

“Then suck me real good, Kitten, and let me feel you come."

James nodded, tears in the corners of his eyes, as he took John's cock into his mouth, and let John's hips set the rough and glorious pace.

Time slipped out of his grasp as his focus narrowed down to a very few points of extreme pleasure — John's knuckles in his hole, cock on his tongue, and fingertips on his cock's head. The tease of the latter drew goosebumps up his skin and ramped everything up to eleven.

By now he was so gone that he mindlessly thrusted into the cage of John's fingers, wrecking their rhythm for a moment before John recovered and redoubled his efforts.

Even with the off rhythm, or maybe because of it — that tiny gap in the massive wall of sensations allowing space to feel the peak cresting —  James was finally taken over by his pleasure. He was pitched over the summit and fell into a deep fog of bliss, moaning the whole way down.

_Filled. So fucking filled._

When he came back to himself John was pulling out and guiding him down onto the bed. He choked on a sob and John wrapped himself around James’ back, hushing him with soft, comforting words in his ear.

"That was amazing, babydoll. Christ you felt so good I just..." He kissed James neck, causing a violent shiver. "Sorry, that was just fucking incredible. Thank you Jamie. I needed that."

"You...? I was the one who got..." James barely had the breath or the words to continue. He turned to pull John in for a weepy kiss.

_Everything. He got everything._

He’d given everything, too, and John had taken care of him.

He’d been right about this one. Worth holding onto.


	13. Friday, February 16th

**Baby Bear:** Hey babe. I know it’s Friday, which is Our Night but it’s also Thomas-and-John-Do-Drag-Together Night, so I was thinking...  
**Baby Bear:** Maybe this is unfair, but do you think you’d be willing to come to the bar tonight?

 **Papa Bear:** What for?

 **Baby Bear:** One, because the place is going to be packed, and two, we would get time to hang out together.  
**Baby Bear:** I know we normally hang out after my shift but if we spent time during the shift, then...

 **Papa Bear:** You want to be with both of them tonight.

 **Baby Bear:** For the first time. For Valentines Day.

 **Papa Bear:** Ah, of course.

 **Baby Bear:** Is that a shitty ask? I promise it won’t become a habit.

 **Papa Bear:** No, babe. It’s fine. I’ll still get to spend time with you at the bar, and I already know ahead of time that I won’t see you later. You’re doing it right.

 **Baby Bear:** And it’s not shitty that our date night is effectively a work night?

 **Papa Bear:** We had date night on Wednesday. <3

 **Baby Bear:** True, but still. I feel bad asking you to work behind the bar. It’s been so long since you’ve had to.

 **Papa Bear:** I think I’ll remember how to pour a beer, Jamie. It’ll be fine. I’ll get to bump up against you whenever I want.

 **Baby Bear:** Ha. Good. It’s a date then. Sort of. A behind the bar date. :/

 **Papa Bear:** Yeah, well, just because we’re working doesn’t mean we can’t flirt. ;)

 **Baby Bear:** TRUE :D

 **Papa Bear:**  Looking forward to it! :*

 **Baby Bear:** Thank you, babe! Xo

 **Papa Bear:** Thanks for checking in, my love. <3

 

~~

 

"You have _got_ to be kidding."

"Why would I kid?"

“Because you of all people should know better,” Jackie was looking prissily at Tammy’s reflection. They always sat back to back and angled their mirrors so they could see each other’s faces while they made themselves up. Tonight was no different, but their usual banter had taken a turn for the catty.

 _“Know better?”_ Tammy feigned innocence in the hopes that Jackie would let it go.

But of course she wouldn’t. She would never. “Yes. That whole Flint/Gates dynamic has always been a hot mess, and you’ve successfully avoided it for a decade. Which I applaud you for, don’t get me wrong. But now this charming bastard John Silver opens his mouth — or his legs, or something — and you’re ready to get all tangled up in the net of Flint’s whole—”

“James and I have been together forever, Jackie. That’s nothing new.”

“Not like this. I know he’s a good fuck, but he’s so much more trouble than he’s worth.”

“Says the queen who chased him for nearly a year,” Tammy said archly, blending her contouring highlights with a sponge.

“ _Five years ago,”_ Jackie said, tossing her non-existent hair. “This all of you together thing is a horrible idea.”

A low, sultry voice dropped into the conversation. “You wish for it to work like a triangle with you and Flint and Silver, yes? But then what, _ma chérie?_  Where does _Monsieur_ Gates fit into that shape? It is as if you forget him, which is a dangerous thing, as I know you know...”

Tammy looked daggers at Max for half a second, then turned back to her mirror and channeled the Ice Queen. “Hal and James are doing fine. Thank you for your concern.”

“You are playing with fire, _ma belle_.” Max’s voice was calm, but there was something in it that made Tammy believe the tranquil façade cost her dearly to maintain. “If it comes crashing down on you, do _not_ come to me with your teary eyes. I will not dry them.”

“I would never ask that of you, Max, dear.” Tammy spoke with the kind of sweetness that held poison in it, and she didn’t even care that Max could tell.

She just looked at Tammy like she was a fool. “No. Of course not. But when the partnership of _Messieurs_ James Flint and _Henri_ Gates falls apart, who will be there to pick up all the tiny little pieces? _Moi._ They will ask me to buy one of them out of the bar and I will not say no because I am a smart woman, but it will be _une catastrophe_ and no one will have seen it coming but myself.” Her voice had taken on a narrative quality, with an airy insouciance that both grated on Tammy’s nerves and made her want to laugh in Max’s face.

“Thank you for sharing your wet dream of a monopoly on the queer entertainment industry in this town, but that’s all it is, darling: a dream.”

Max stood up and walked behind Tammy, resting a hand on her bare shoulder and smiling craftily at her reflection. “I’m glad to hear you think so, _mon coeur._ ” She leaned down until her mouth was against Tammy’s ear, their eyes still locked in the mirror. Her words were barely even a breath, more of a shape of her mouth, that Tammy could both see and feel. “Prove me wrong.”

Tammy winked at her and mouthed obscenely back, “With pleasure.”

Max’s eyebrow arched high, then the next moment she swept out of the makeup room, leaving one of them amused, one of the disgruntled.

The disgruntled one muttered something about ‘a lamb to slaughter’ just as Johnny walked in and headed to his makeup chair. She swept her wig up and trounced out of the room, saying, “Mark my words, children: this will end in tears.”

“What’s got her panties in a twist?” Johnny wondered, watching Jackie leave.

"Nothing," Tammy evaded, thinking it wasn't the best idea to worry John right before their performance.

"It was clearly something. Is she worried about tonight?"

"No, no. She's just stating her opinion about certain ways of being in relationship, which... whatever. It's not worth listening to her." Tammy was trying to convince herself, but she had to admit she was failing. 

“As if she knew about relationships," Johnny scoffed. “I've never even heard her talk about _one._ Is she even poly?” 

That was a perceptive intuiting moment, but of course John had guessed what relationship Jackie had been talking about.

“Well, she’s basically solo poly — will date multiple people at a time but never wants to have an actual partner. James' way of doing things is very foreign to her.”

"Huh," John mused. "Well, it's also none of her business..."

John clearly didn't yet understand how close-knit the community was in this town and how much they looked out for each other — or how in each others' business they all were, depending.

“Fair. People like talking about James' relationships, however, that just comes with the territory." She waved the issue away but the doubts Jackie and Max had planted prompted her to say, "Whatever outcome of this little experiment we're attempting will be fine.”

“I never thought I’d say this — about _anyone,_ let alone _two_ people — but it’s worth the risk to me,” Johnny mumbled as if embarrassed, staring at his feet.

Tammy paused, unreasonably glad to hear Johnny say something like that, but unsure if it was a good idea to call attention to it. Instead she just squeezed his arm.

“Just remember that everyone is approaching this situation in good faith. I’m not at all worried about fallout, honestly. Whatever happens, I’m confident we can all remain friends on some level.”

“Good,” Johnny sighed deeply. “I don’t have enough friends to lose any like this. Especially you, baby.”

Tammy’s heart fluttered inside her chest at that, and she wrapped an arm around Johnny’s shoulders to pull him into sideways hug. “You’ve got me, pup. I’m not going anywhere. No matter what.”

"Thank God," John said with a bit of dramatic flair, then air-kissed her cheek, since she was now fully made up, and went to his makeup chair to fix his hair. 

Tammy watched in the mirror as he played with his mass of curls and sighed at being lectured by both Max _and_   Jackie. They had their hearts in the right place but. ' _With friends like these...'_

No, they were all lucky to have such well-meaning people in their lives. And Tammy resolved to stay as positive about the whole situation as she'd just pretended to be for Johnny. 

There was no time to brood anyway.  _'The Show Must Go On'_  after all. 

 

~~

 

The night was going well, and James was feeling better than he had in days. It was Valentine’s Day weekend, The Frig was packed, the drag show was in full swing, Hal was with him behind the bar, and in less than ten minutes, John and Thomas would finish off the set with their highly awaited number. After that, most people would head over to Max’s for the second set. The next little while was the last crush of an extremely busy night, and then he got to spend the night with both of his babes.

James mixed a couple of Raspberry Kiss cocktails from the specials list — everything tonight was red or pink — while Hal opened and poured beers for another group of folks. They worked quickly and well together, their movements around each other — reaching for glasses or garnishes, handing off bottles, moving a hip out the way for an under-bar cooler to open — all felt natural and synchronized as if choreographed.

James had missed this.

He bumped Hal’s hip and winked at him as he reached for a cocktail shaker, and Hal squinted back, puckering his lips into a little kiss shape. They both smiled as they went about their tasks, hurrying to finish before the next number started.

“You got limes, babe?” Hal asked, popping the tops of two Coronas nearly simultaneously.

“All for you.” James slid the garnish container down the bar a few feet so Hal could reach.

The DJ cut the canned music off and the crowd quieted down just as James finished off his twelfth Love Potion with a rose petal garnish. He handed off the drink and updated the person’s tab in the computer, then settled next to Hal, leaning on the back of the bar as everyone drifted away to watch the second to last number of the evening.

The lights in the bar lowered so the stage was more prominently lit, and two figures entered from behind the curtain: Clyde N. Bonny in a double breasted, pinstriped suit, complete with spats and fedora, and Jackie O-Face dressed as a prim farmer’s daughter, in a high-necked, shin-length, blue gingham dress and white apron, topped with blonde ringlet pigtails — a very Dorothy Gale look, which went over well with this crowd. Consummate drag queen that she was, Jackie had made herself look very young and very pretty, and she curtsied daintily as the audience wolf whistled for both of them.

Once Clyde had taken his place center stage, scowling malevolently at the audience, the music started up. Much of the audience laughed, the gay men in the room recognizing a corny musical number from the first couple bars. Though interestingly, Jackie had chosen the Doris Day version from the film of [ _Guys and Dolls_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTeKfyJkCZQ&list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu&index=9) [,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTeKfyJkCZQ&list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu&index=9) not the cast recording from Broadway _._ Jackie arched an eyebrow at the unruly crowd before addressing Clyde with her first lyrics, _‘I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck...’_

Clyde scowled even darker at Jackie as she fawned over him during the first verse and chorus, then stalked away stage left as she batted her eyelashes during the ‘ _doodle-oodle-oodle-oo-doo’_ part.

Clyde took out a knife and started whittling a piece of wood as Jackie geared up to sing the second verse. During this one she was more emphatic about her love, clawing at Clyde’s clothes and chasing him around the stage. At the end of the chorus, now completely fed up, Clyde pointed the knife at her and backed away. Jackie just rolled her eyes and smiled, doodle-oohing her way downstage.

While Clyde sulked in the corner during the dance break, Jackie turned to the audience and started flirting with them — winking and showing a bit of leg, and, when she started getting cheers and whistles, unceremoniously stripping off her farm dress. Underneath she had on a red gingham halter top and Daisy Dukes, neither of which covered much skin at all.

The piano came in, making the music sexier, and Jackie started to shimmy and kick, blowing kisses and winking at everyone who tossed money onto the stage.

Clyde fumed until he couldn’t stand it anymore and stormed up to Jackie, pulling her away from the audience and roughly fake-kissing her until she went weak in his arms. He let up just in time for her to start singing again about how much she loved him. This time he let her clutch at him and pinch his cheeks and fan herself at how hot her man was, and though he still scowled, he looked much less angry and more embarrassed — bashful, even.

Just after her last, _‘You bet your pretty neck I do’,_ Jackie kissed Clyde on the cheek and he looked astounded and deeply flattered at the gesture. James had no idea how he did it, but Clyde actually looked like he was blushing furiously.

During the ending set of three ‘ _doodle-oodle-oo-do’s,_ the two of them hugged dramatically and attempted multiple times to exit the stage side by side, arms around each other, but they didn’t fit through the doorway. Jackie shrugged as she sang the last _‘doo’_ and on the last flourish of the song, Clyde jumped into Jackie’s arms, kissed her cheek, and let Jackie carry him through the curtain like a bride over a threshold.

The crowd whooped and hollered until they both came back onstage and bowed, Jackie all smiles and curtsies and eating up the attention, Clyde still blushing but giving only one sideways smirk as he bowed low. It was the first smile James had ever seen on Anne Bonny’s face. The two of them picked up their money and hurried off, clearly proud of themselves, and to James’ eyes, now close friends, if not more than that.

“Do you think Thomas has been matchmaking between the troupes?” he murmured to Hal as the DJ put on background music and raised the bar lights, which was the patrons’ cue to swarm the bar.

Hal’s eyebrows raised high and he smiled thoughtfully. “I dunno how many of them would want to cross pollinate, if you know what I mean, but I wouldn’t put it past him to try."

 

They worked hard for about five minutes, filling dozens of orders, and then the lights shifted again and the two of them settled in to watch the long-awaited number, refusing to serve another drink until the show was over. Hal wrapped his arms around James’ waist and rested a chin on his shoulder. James gave Hal his weight, enjoying the coziness of leaning up against Hal's chest as the audience died down.

When everyone was quiet and the lights on stage went up, Tammy Gay Faker entered dramatically in full drag regalia — floor-length sheath dress covered in sequins with an off-the-shoulder neckline edged with feathers, satiny gloves all the way up to her elbows, shoulder-length curly blonde wig, and glam as fuck makeup. She’d always been the fishiest queen James had ever seen, but tonight Tammy looked so femme it was a little astounding.

The audience made a ruckus but she hushed them as Johnny Pocket Rocket strutted onstage, looking like a true dandy in a tux with tails and gloves, complete with a rose in his buttonhole. He wasn’t wearing a top hat, but he still looked long and lean somehow. Maybe it was his hair, slicked into a tight ponytail at the base of his neck. Whatever it was, it was a Good Look, and the audience whooped for him too, though he only smiled and shushed them as he took his place at the side of the stage.

The song started with Tammy proclaiming, _‘[I promise that you'll never find another like me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJrejf8blAA&list=PLRl1bIBrC6Tgc3qDeaPRWbYCcbyEYmJGu&index=10)’_. Some of the crowd lost their shit, but many folks, including James, didn’t recognize the song at all. It was poppy and catchy and fun but he’d never heard it before. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t like the number, but he’d have to listen closely to catch the meaning of it.

Tammy sang the first verse to Johnny, apologizing for being a ‘ _handful’_ and ‘ _going psycho’_ while Johnny seemed totally unforgiving. James tried to reserve judgment but wasn’t too sure about the dynamic they were setting up.

But then she got to the chorus, and as she sang, ‘ _I'm the only one of me, Baby, that's the fun of me’_ she started to undress.

Thomas didn’t usually strip when doing drag. The two things were kind of separate in his mind, even as he knew there was a large crossover between burlesque and drag performance. He used to say it just wasn’t for him — it took him so long to get into his drag outfits, he didn’t want to have to get back out of them in front of other people. So this was new, and James was riveted.

First her gloves came off, then she slipped out of her dress from the top down, revealing a beautiful, very full bra and corset. James’ throat went dry watching her shimmy the dress down her torso and hips until the whole thing dropped to the floor, revealing a bottom half clad in boxers, dress socks with sock garters, and shiny black dress shoes.

The crowd reacted with laughs and whistles and applause, but to be honest, the effect was kind of amazing. The contrasts of the high femme top, including face and hair, with the masculine bottoms did something marvelous to James’ insides.

But there wasn’t time to process it because the next verse had started.

Johnny took center stage and sang to Tammy, apologizing for tending to _‘make it about me’_ and being a _‘lame guy’_ and declaring that he _‘never wants to see you walk away’_ etc, but when he sang the line _‘Baby doll, when it comes to a lover, I promise that you'll never find another like meeee’,_ he too took off his clothes.

First his gloves came off, then he loosened his bowtie and collar. Then he pulled one of those stripper moves and just yanked his dress pants off from the waist and they came away in his hands.

The crowd screamed and whooped and threw money because underneath, he was wearing lacy black underwear with a sizable packer inside them, a red lace garter belt and sheer black stockings, plus — and this was what had James thinking he looked taller than normal — three inch red stiletto heels.

They did wonders for his leg muscles, and again, the whole look, with the slicked hair and tux collar, not to mention the tails draped down the back of his killer legs, and that garter belt and... yeah. It was _A Lot._

James was overheating a bit, pressed up against Hal. He took hold of Hal’s hand as he stood up straight, getting a little distance from their bodies and taking a deep breath. Hal chuckled next to him and squeezed his hand.

Luckily the stripping seemed to have stopped by the song’s breakdown, when the two of them paraded around in their amazing genderfucking outfits, spelling and counting and singing about being unique and awesome. Those in the audience who clearly knew the song sang and clapped along to the marching beat, and everyone else joined in as Tammy and Johnny did a stylized and modernized version of that Victorian dance they’d made up only a couple weeks ago on nearly that same spot.

The song was starting to sound like a Queer Anthem to James, and possibly much of the rest of the audience, who kept up the beat and sang along as the chorus came in again.

Tammy and Johnny broke from their formal dance into something much more chaotic, bouncing and shimmying and rocking out as they sang:

I'm the only one of me (I'm the only one of me)  
Baby, that's the fun of me (Baby, that's the fun of me)  
Ee-hee-hee, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh  
_You're the only one of you  
_Baby, that's the fun of you

Tammy started emptying her bra all over the stage —  once again stuffed with gym socks and lingerie — then she took it off, leaving the corset around her torso, which didn’t quite cover her bare, flat chest. Lastly, she swept off her wig and the cap underneath, revealing her short blonde hair. The audience whooped and screamed for her, all of the queens on their feet and cheering. It was an amazing final look — from top to bottom it was fantastically androgynous and everyone loved it. Though she couldn’t see him in the back behind the bar, James blew her a kiss.

Not to be outdone, Johnny took his ponytail out and shook his head until his curls were back and more unruly than ever. Then he tugged off what was now clearly only a shirt front, leaving his chest bare under the jacket with tails. James gasped along with some of the audience, then laughed out loud as the crowd roared their approval and support. Johnny held his arms out wide, showing off his flat, scarred chest, along with his deliciously sexy genderfucking outfit, the nerves and pride and joy leaking out his eyes.

James was so fucking proud of him.

As was Tammy, by the smile she gave Johnny. They sang the last lines about _me_ and _you_ to each other, then turned out to the audience for the last line, one of each of their arms around the other’s waist, the other arm reaching out to the very back of the audience, singing: _'And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me-hee-hee.'_

James flattered himself that they were singing to him.

The crowd went nuts, up on their feet and howling and stomping their praise. James blew kisses to both of them and gave them jazz hands. Hal wolf whistled louder than the room could handle, nearly deafening James, but it was worth it to see Hal showing appreciation for the efforts of James’ other partners.

James kissed him on the cheek in thanks.

As the applause died down, James took a deep breath, geared up for the last big push, and got to work. People immediately gravitated to the bar, talking and laughing and rehashing the final number as well as the earlier ones. No one was in a huge rush to get a drink but there were a lot of them, especially because the second set of the evening was at Max’s in forty-five minutes and people needed to cash out.

Clearly there was no time to find Thomas and John to congratulate them, but James trusted they would come to the bar when they had changed. He did get to see and congratulate most of the other drag performers, some of whom hadn’t gotten a chance to use their drink tickets yet. He worked as quickly as he could, mixing highballs with one hand while assembling more complicated cocktails with the other. Hal kept busy with beer and wine and working the register, which saved James a ton of time, and the only thing he regretted was creating a couple special cocktails with 5 or more ingredients.

“Two Love Buzzes, dear heart,” Jack said smoothly, leaning over the bar toward James.

James grunted, “You know that one has coffee in it, right?”

“I know what I’m about, son.” Jack was never good at serious, but he got points for trying.

“As you wish, sir,” James said, with a sidelong glance.

“Ma’am, tonight, Jamesie. I’m still basking in our success.”

“Yes ma’am,” James corrected himself as he started mixing the drinks. “Amazing performance, by the way. I wouldn’t have thought you and Anne made a good match, but I was clearly mistaken.”

“Well, we played to our strengths, and the inherent comedy in the match just blossomed naturally,” Jack said airily, waving his hand idly. He was in fine form this evening, nearly achieving his eternal goal of bringing Oscar Wilde back to life.

“Blossomed. Yeah, I could see that. Anne was blushing by the end, you know.”

“Hush! If anyone mentions it in their hearing they’re likely to slit the person’s throat.”

“All I’ll say is that I’m glad you’ve found each other, and I hope the union proves fruitful.”

“I swear I don’t know _what_ you mean,” Jack said with an arch look as he set down two drink tickets and accepted two very full glasses.

“I’m sure you don’t,” James deadpanned as Jack walked dramatically — but carefully — away.

James and Hal were about halfway through serving the crowd of waiting people when Thomas and John finally came out from backstage and started to make their way slowly over, mobbed by friends and fans who wanted to congratulate them. Thomas kissed more cheeks in a ten foot radius than James had thought possible, and John’s triumphant grin never left his eyes, let alone his face, in all of the many conversations that were thrust upon him.

James kept an eye on them — to gauge when to have their drinks ready, if for no other reason.

Hal smirked and touched James’ shoulder when they were only a couple feet from the bar. He was two drinks into a five drink order and annoyed about it. He managed to keep his cool until all five were in the customers’ hands, but then he let Hal take over and reached far over the bar to grab at John’s shoulder.

“Hey, pup. C’mere.”

“In a minute, Jamie,” Thomas said, stepping close enough for James to get his arms mostly around him and kiss him briefly. “John’s busy being complimented by a drag king from New York.” He must have been able to see the flash of jealousy James felt rush through him because he added, “He’s down here to visit his _sweetheart_ and happened to catch our show.”

“Well anyway, you were amazing. My God, Thomas. I’ve never seen something like that from you.”

“Did it work? I didn’t look absurd? Or way too old to be stripping off in front of people?”

“You looked perfect. Truly fabulous. Conceptually brilliant and executed magnificently.”

“You’re just saying that so I’ll fuck you later.”

“I’m saying that, _and also_ you’re going to fuck me later. Correlation, not causation.”

“Who’s fucking who later, and can I watch?” John asked. He reached up as far as he could as James leaned so far over the bar his feet left the ground.

They hugged tightly and James whispered, “You were fucking incredible,” into John’s ear.

Already flushed from both the performance and everyone’s praise, John lowered his eyes coyly in that bashful gesture James had been so charmed by from the very start. James brushed the backs of his fingers down John’s hot cheek and smiled fondly. “My beautiful boy.”

“Thanks,” John whispered, then cleared his throat, but said no more.

“He was really good at walking in heels, huh?” James enthused dramatically to Thomas. “Did you teach him that? It was super impressive.”

Thomas chuckled, as he always did when James picked the most absurd and ignorant compliment to give after a performance, making fun of the hets who would never quite get what drag was about.

John’s quizzical smile showed he was bemused but nearly catching on already.

“I ignore him when he’s like this; I suggest you do the same,” Thomas drawled.

“I was just thinking of ways to shut him up, to be honest,” John replied, and Thomas turned back to James, eyebrows high with wonder.

“Don’t look at me,” James said with a laugh. “You’ve had him to yourself for a week. If anyone’s to blame, it’s you.”

“If by ‘blame’ you mean ‘ _praise’,_ then yes. It _was_ all me.”

John opened his mouth to retort but just then Hal came over with an Old Fashioned and a Cape Cod, and John just made a grateful noise as he took his glass.

“They’re nothing like Jamie’s but you’d never have got them, waiting on him to serve you.”

“ _Bless_ you Hal,” Thomas said, taking his drink. John just made a noise of appreciation as he took his first sip.

“I was just gonna start them,” James lied. He’d forgotten about everything but getting to see and touch his babes.

He looked around and noticed there was still a long line of people, and Hal was gamely working on a couple special cocktails it would take James less than a minute to finish.

“One question before I get back to work: can those final outfits make an appearance again sometime?”

Thomas looked at John as if to say _‘I told you so’_ and John rolled his eyes such that James heard _‘DUH’_ loud and clear.

They talked over each other when they deigned to reply, Thomas saying, “Only If you’re _very_ good,” while John said, “Only if we get to dress you as well.” Which were the most On Brand things for each of them to say, ever.

James chuckled and touched each of their arms, saying, “Come find me after,” before heading back into the trenches with Hal.

After the babes — along with most everyone else — left to watch the set of solo performances at Max’s, Hal leaned against James’ shoulder and said, “It’s beautiful to see how much you love them.”

James stared at him. “Wha— I don’t...” He’d told himself he’d never lie to Hal, even a lie of omission, but damn it was hard sometimes to know what was the truth. “I mean, I’ve always loved Thomas, in my way, you know that.”

Hal nodded. “I do.”

“But John is so new, I don’t really know—”

“I do. I can see it, Jamie. There’s a lot of types of love and lots of levels to it. I’m not saying you love him the same way you love me or Thomas, or that you’ll love him forever, but I can’t help thinking he could be _A_ love of your life, if you wanted him to be.”

“One of three?” James teased with a smile.

“If you wanted, yeah.” Hal said earnestly. ”I know how you are when you’ve given your heart to somebody, Jamie. It’s beautiful to witness. And you’re that way around John now, as well as Thomas. I wasn’t sure Tuesday night, but I am tonight.”

“And?”

“Just what I said: it’s beautiful. I feel lucky to get to watch you with him. With them.”

“It doesn’t make you jealous?”

“Nah, I’ve gotten over that business. You’ve been the best partner ever for the last week, and I’m confident that we can continue being good to and for each other, going forward. We set ourselves up to succeed on Wednesday, don’t you think?”

“I do.” James nodded, smiling fondly.

“Good. And, since we had our Valentine’s celebration then, feel free to join your boys. I’ll steer the ship over here solo until closing.”

“Thanks, but they’re busy cheering on their troupe-mates, and will come back here when that show is done. I’ll stay with you and help you close before heading off with them.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s Friday. And besides, I like working the bar with you.” James kissed Hal’s forehead, which never failed to make him blush, and started washing glasses.

“I like doing everything with you,” Hal countered, bumping his shoulder against James’.

 

~~

 

John nearly choked on his own saliva watching James shove his cock down Thomas’ throat. Thomas was on his back, head hanging just over the edge of the mattress, and John could see the thickness swell his throat as James slid easily in and out again.

John had the best view possible because he was balls deep in Thomas’ ass and James was standing facing him, gloriously naked and flushed pink under his freckles.

“Christ,” he breathed, his hips thrusting forward of their own accord.

Thomas tightened the grip of his legs around John’s torso and groaned around James’ cock. James hissed in pleasure.

_This was quite possibly the best idea John had ever had in his life._

James was getting close to coming, so John sped up his thrusts. The long blue cock pushed deep inside in a mesmerizing way, especially as the noises Thomas made matched their movement. When James started to grunt, John licked his hand wet and stroked Thomas’ cock back to hardness. Thomas’ moans, when he was allowed to breathe, were pitched higher and higher with every motion, but John watched James for the tells that he was about to shoot down Thomas’ throat.

James stood there, powerful and sweaty and grimacing, eyes riveted to Thomas’ face, panting and praising and pushing Thomas as far as he was willing to go. “That’s perfect, babydoll. God, you swallow like a champ. Fuck, fuck. Now, baby. Down your throat or on your face?”

Thomas pushed James’ hips back to get room to breathe, and his cries reached a new height as John felt the resistance that meant Thomas was clenching around him. Thomas’ cock pulsed in John’s hand as Thomas stroked James, tonguing and sucking on the head.

They came at nearly the same moment, thick stripes of white landing across Thomas’ belly and face, and dribbling down his chin. Thomas’ cry and James’ groan were octaves apart and John nearly came just from the sound of both of his lovers’ pleasure.

But not quite.

He stripped off the cock and harness as James bent over for an upside down kiss to Thomas’ filthy mouth. John kissed Thomas’ sticky belly and then crawled up the sweat-slick body before him with the taste of Thomas’ come on his lips. He watched James lick his own mess off Thomas’ face and felt himself leaking. When he reached them, he pulled James upright and licked into his mouth while straddling Thomas’ head.

James buried his hands in John’s hair and kissed him fiercely, the tastes of his and Thomas’ come mixing in their mouths. John moaned when he felt Thomas’ tongue lapping up the slick on the head of his flesh cock, the drag on the tip just right to make his toes curl and spread the heat in his stomach down his thighs.

_Fuck, they were good at this._

John only had a moment to wonder at his lovers’ coordination before he was lost to the build up of pleasure inside him. His little vexed moans of almost-but-not-quite-there seemed to spur on both their efforts, Thomas’ mouth more insistent, one of James’ hands clutching his hair harder as the other trailed down his back and spread his ass cheeks enough for one finger to press against the pucker of his hole.

He canted his hips back invitingly which shifted the angle of Thomas’ mouth on him, making things both better and worse. James reached forward and carefully slicked his finger from the combination of John’s precome and Thomas’ saliva, then pressed inside to the first knuckle.

John gasped and quivered and Thomas hummed as he found a gorgeous position and rhythm. James synched his shallow movements perfectly and kissed and nibbled John’s neck and earlobe, tugging John’s hair so he’d lift his chin and give James more room.

“Watching Thomas take both of us got you ready, hmm?” The hot breath in his ear sent shivers down John's spine and it was hard to nod, but he did.

“You looked so fucking hot fucking into him like that. Both of us filling him up, leaving him a mess.”

John whimpered and James paused to bite the tendon under his ear, which made him whimper louder. He hooked his finger inside John and pulled, sending sparks all across John’s skin. Thomas had gone back to tonguing the tip of his cock and the pleasure in John bloomed rapidly, wildly, nearer the peak but not _quite_ there.

“God I’d fucking love it if you two used me like that. Left me spent with come all over and inside.”

John moaned, pressing his face against James’ neck, leaning into him to help hold his weight. The idea of coming inside of James and leaving a mess dripping out of every orifice spiked pleasure hard through him and left his skin tingling.

“And, if you wanted... We could fill you up in every way too...” James licked into John’s mouth as he pressed his finger in deep. John gasped and moaned as he kissed James hard, tongue and teeth needy, reaching, taking.

James’ finger thrust in and out as Thomas’ tongue wiggled and licked, and James’ mouth moved against his ear to illustrate John’s dreams.

“On your knees, bent over. Me on my back beneath you, turned upside down. Thomas standing behind. He’ll fuck you while we sixty-nine. Or... I fuck you and you fuck him, so we can sandwich you between us...”

John moaned loudly, his thighs shaking as he bore down on James’ finger, nerves lit up. He was so fucking aroused his front hole was clenching, hungry, though John had stopped filling it years ago. His hips rocked a bit, thrusting into Thomas’ mouth, seeking climax, and he responded by humming around John’s cock.

_Fuck, there it was._

He came hard, breathless and back-arched as the concentrated pleasure exploded through him, setting every part of him ablaze.

Both Thomas and James stayed with him, thrusting and sucking through the long tail of his orgasm, extending the climax for longer than John had thought possible. The pleasure spike held and peaked over and over until he was fully spent and his boys’ rhythms started to falter. When the sweet pleasure arced toward sharpness, he finally had to stop.

Panting, everything still pulsing, John tugged on James’ arm to get him to slide his finger out, wincing as it dragged. Then, finally, he collapsed to sitting on Thomas’ chest, the mess they’d both made between his legs slicking the chest hair.

Thomas grinned up at him, dazed, a look of awe on his face. John smiled and wiped the glistening tip of his nose for him, though it didn’t do much to clean Thomas up — the entire lower half of his face was slick.

A shock of red hair blocked John’s view as James bent over Thomas for another upside down kiss, and though John couldn’t see it, he knew James was tasting John’s mess on Thomas’ lips.

_Someone was very glad the sharing fluids ban had been lifted._

When James was done, John scooted back and sat on Thomas’ pelvis so he could bend over and kiss his face.

Thomas smelled and tasted of sex and he kissed lazily, his arms wrapping heavily around John’s lower back. John took his time kissing Thomas, pouring his gratitude and delight into him, and Thomas responded in kind.

They stayed that way for some time, until something between their hips stirred, and John realized Thomas was getting hard again. They were lined up perfectly for John to rock his hips and slide his still slick cock along Thomas’ length.

Thomas bit slowly down on John’s lower lip as he rocked, which filled his cock too, and they got carried away until a soft moan caught John’s attention.

James was still standing next to the bed, watching them, his hardening cock in his hand.

John stretched his neck like a baby bird, mouth open and seeking, and James pushed his hips forward until John could lip at his head — just the faintest nibbles and tiny licks, as James whined at the tease. After a particularly sharp whine, John realized that Thomas had joined in, mouthing at James’ balls, not giving quite enough for satisfaction either. John smiled as he kissed James’ frenulum, amused at both of them defaulting to pleasant torture when it came to giving James what he wanted.

He continued to rock against Thomas as he sucked on just the tip of James’ cock, brushing his tongue over the slit, the bitter, salty tang a welcome substitute for latex.

James groaned, the sound resembling a guttural chuckle, deep in his throat. “Christ.”

John started giving James’ lovely, perfectly curved cock some actual attention, and by the way James twitched and whined, Thomas had ramped up his efforts below at the same time. John would never admit to having very little understanding of what to do with a set of balls, so he was glad Thomas was taking care of them. He vowed to watch and learn a trick or two at some point. Just not tonight.

At the moment he was too busy enjoying the velvet feel of James’ glans on his tongue. It had been a long time since he’d done this without a condom, and it really was delightful. For one thing, James smelled like himself, not a sterile hospital, and _dear God_ did John love how James smelled. He was muskier than Thomas, sharper, where Thomas was earthy, almost floral, and the combination of their scents propelled John towards arousal quicker than was reasonable.

He rocked a little harder against Thomas’ thick cock but couldn’t get enough pleasure from their positions. He made little distressed noises around James’ cock as he adjusted, trying to find a better angle.

A broad, warm hand clutched his asscheek and began guiding his hips in a way that made John believe it was Thomas, seeking optimal pleasure from his movements. Whatever he did seemed to work perfectly for both of them, and John decided that Thomas was just that brilliant.

When James let out a frustrated huff, John guessed that both he and Thomas had lost a bit of focus and were letting James languish. John took more of James’ cock into his mouth as an apology, letting the head settle against his soft palate and the back of his tongue, and sucked him in earnest.

A tiny, nearly overwhelmed sound came from above, and James’ hips stuttered forward, nudging his cock toward the back of John’s throat. He was good, but he wasn’t without a gag reflex, so he backed off slightly and integrated James’ movements into his own rhythm.

Then it was Thomas’ turn to sound frustrated, since being on his back, he couldn’t adapt to as much movement. A moment of shifting below, and James gasped mid-thrust. Thomas chuckled low and dark, and James cursed but didn’t stop moving, or letting Thomas continue whatever new pleasure — or torture — he’d stumbled upon.

Just as John’s neck was getting tired enough to ache, James slid his hand along John’s nape and held him in place. John relaxed and let James take control of the rhythm and depth of thrusts. He wasn’t always into getting his mouth fucked, but James was the perfect balance of considerate and unapologetic in seeking pleasure.

_Seriously, no better sex partners existed than these two._

Soon James was grunting with every thrust, and Thomas was apparently humming around his balls, as John ran his tongue along the underside of James’ head, rocking against Thomas in time with James’ rhythm.

Thomas’ hips canted at exactly the right angle just as James started to lose his rhythm, so John grabbed James’ hip and pulled him all the way home so he could rock harder against Thomas as he swallowed around James.

James cried out, loud and lost, and held John’s head against his pelvis as he shot down his throat.

A muffled grunt came from below and Thomas’ hand clenched John’s ass harder, willing him to move faster. James cupped John’s head in both hands and kissed ravenously as the pleasure built up and Thomas started to keen, high-pitched cries following one after the other.

James bit John’s earlobe just as Thomas wailed his release, and John gasped at the spike of pleasure. He reached down and stroked himself to completion, still rocking against Thomas, and panting in James’ ear.

_Fuck. That one was a surprise._

They were all three truly insatiable.

Not that John was complaining in the least...

Thomas was the first to catch his breath. “Hey, pup. C’mere.”

John looked down at Thomas, expecting him to want a kiss, and realized he’d addressed James, who sighed and crawled onto the bed to fit himself against Thomas’ side.

“The OG pup,” John said stretching out on top of Thomas before kissing James’ nose.

James huffed a laugh. “Now dubbed kitten. I guess I can be species-queer.”

“Kitten?” Thomas asked, eyebrows high as he wrapped an arm around James’ shoulders.

“John started it. If I was allowed to call him ‘pup’, he could call me ‘kitten’.”

“Hm. He _is_ getting more catlike in his old age...” Thomas said to John with a smirk.

“ _My_ kitten,” John claimed, scratching James’ beard just under his chin where it was the thickest.

“Well I can’t call you _both_ ‘pup’,” Thomas whined prettily. He did everything prettily, honestly.

“Fine. I’m Pup, Jamie’s Kitten, and you’re...” John cocked his head at Thomas, trying to decide what sort of animal he reminded him of.

“Hamster,” James chuckled.

Thomas made a _face_ — appalled and insulted and a little bit impressed — and John fell over onto James, laughing.

“Oof. Here, hang on...” James adjusted a bit and tucked John very snugly between him and Thomas. It felt kinda like when he used to squeeze himself between his mattress and the wall to hide when he was a kid. Except this was completely safe, not just the illusion of safety.

John’s head was tucked just under James’ chin, whose broad chest was against John’s back, the heat from which warmed John’s sweat-cooled skin until he shivered off the last of the chill he didn’t know he’d had.

Thomas angled himself to face John a bit more and James reached over John’s shoulder to cup Thomas’ nape and draw him into a kiss. John once again had the perfect vantage point to watch his lovers, and he couldn’t help sighing at the beauty. He cupped James’ biceps in his hand as he kissed Thomas’ collarbone to connect with each of them as he could.

They pressed closer and John started to wonder if he was in the way and whether he should climb out from between them before he got smushed. But then Thomas took hold of John’s hip and pulled him close, making an interested sound in this throat when their pelvises touched.

James broke the kiss to move forward so he was still pressed hot against John’s back, and nudged his hips against John’s ass while nipping at his shoulder.

“A John sandwich,” he murmured against John’s skin.

“Hmm? Yes please,” Thomas said, looking half-asleep and fully debauched but also, miraculously, still interested.

He kissed John deeply as James rocked his hips slightly, fitting his cock between John’s ass cheeks. God, even just that little tease, dry skin and all, felt glorious, especially when countered with Thomas’ slick tongue stroking his own. John’s heart raced and his stomach fluttered. He would never be over the combined attention of these two.

It was _so_ much, and _so_ intimate, but also exactly what he wanted. John couldn’t stand being pinned under someone, but if Thomas rolled over on top of him right now, he’d welcome his weight. There had been times when John had panicked at the press of too many people in a crowd, but pressed between these two, he’d never feel suffocated.

James’ hand had slid down Thomas’ neck to rest on his chest, above his heart. So John, while still kissing Thomas, slotted his fingers in the gaps between James’ fingers to press his hand to Thomas’ heart as well.

Thomas, bless him, let go of John’s hip to cover their hands with his own as James buried his face in the hair at the crook of John’s neck. Every sensation across every inch of John’s skin in that moment was exactly what love must feel like.

_Fuck. This was way too much._

Here he was, caught in the middle of two loving people who miraculously were willing to share that feeling — the one they’d cultivated between the two of them for _decades_ — with _him_ of all people. He didn’t fucking deserve that but there it was, on a silver platter, waiting for him to accept it.

Overwhelmed, he pulled away from Thomas’ mouth and caught his breath in a choked sob. When Thomas opened his eyes and looked at John’s face, he pulled all of the hands from his chest and pressed them, James’ palm downward, against John’s sternum.

John gasped, then held all three of their hands to his chest for dear life.

James stilled, and by the shift in focus of Thomas’ eyes, must have looked to him for guidance. Thomas nodded and James breathed again, letting John lead when it came to his own body, as always.

He was so fucking lucky to have this. Gratitude filled up his throat. To feel their hands on him — on his bare, scarred, and reclaimed chest — was a blessing. A gift he never could have imagined finding here, let alone asking for.

“I love you guys,” he whispered with barely any breath.

He hadn’t said something like that in years, and had never in his life meant it like he did in this moment. His heart nearly stopped in the seconds between speaking and hearing as he waited for a reaction.

James let out a huge breath deep in the nest of hair at the nape of John’s neck.

Thomas smiled beatifically and nodded. “Yeah, baby. We love you too.”

John wanted to turn and look at James to make sure he agreed with Thomas’ statement, but he couldn’t. James was too busy kissing the back of John’s head and his neck, his ear and shoulder, braving the masses of curls to express himself physically. If that was James’ first response, John could wait for verbal reciprocation.

Their hands on his chest were clutching each other, white-knuckled, but John needed something more. He used both hands to untangle his lovers’ fingers and pressed a hand to each of his pecs, inviting them to stroke his numb chest.

Thomas took the direction immediately, but James took longer to convince. “Please, I wanna feel you.”

“I thought you couldn’t?” he murmured, voice and hand still cautious.

“It’s like a silicone blowjob. It works if you press hard while I watch.”

James grunted in acknowledgment and pressed hard enough to pin John against his own chest. The pressure felt amazing to the rest of John’s torso, even if the nerve endings in his skin didn’t respond.

Meanwhile, Thomas alternated touch in places with feeling and numbness, drawing the two together in one larger whole with his movement around John’s torso. Between the two of them, John received all the right kinds of touch, especially when their hands strayed back to lay over his heart, which they did often.

“A triangle is the strongest shape,” James whispered, voice reverent. “They use it in architecture because it can hold a lot of weight.”

“Hush, darling. John’s busy,” Thomas scolded, trailing a finger over John’s collarbone and eliciting a shiver.

“I’m just saying...” James had pushed John’s hair out of the way so he had uninterrupted access to John’s neck and shoulder, and was making the most of it. John was going to have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow if he kept it up.

“Thanks, love. I can’t believe I’m saying this because I’ve never trusted anything to go well in my life, but I kinda think we can do this. Be this. You all seem to know what you’re doing.”

Thomas snorted. “That’s lucky. I mean, I think we can figure it out, but this is new territory for all of us.”

“But...” John frowned and tried to sit up a bit, though the hands on him wouldn’t really allow it. “You said you’d shared...?”

“Pups come and go, sweetheart. Sharing a bed and sharing a life are two very different things.” James’ breath was hot on John’s neck, but it was his words that elicited the shiver.

_Sharing a life. Christ on a bike._

“You figured out Gates, though, right? Weren’t you already together back then...?”

“Ye-es...” Thomas’ voice had gone a bit sing-songy. What he said wasn’t a lie but it was clear he didn’t think of it as the truth. “There’s a difference between together and _together._ ”

“It was more of an ionic bond back then, not a covalent one, if that makes sense.” James said before nibbling on John’s ear.

Through another shiver, John replied, “Casually fucking, not ‘In A Relationship’.”

“I don’t do anything casually, pup. Especially not fucking. It’s too important. If you’re gonna do it, go big or go home.” Thomas walked his fingers over the crook of John’s shoulder and up the side of his neck.

_Clearly, they were both trying to get him hard again, Jesus._

“But yes, that’s what I meant. And Thomas would agree. It was very different, bringing Hal into the equation, because the three of us weren’t trying to do anything together.”

“So, _not_ a triangle.”

“More like a hinge, James at the fulcrum.” Thomas said as his fingertips burrowed into the hair at John’s nape.

John couldn’t help moaning softly at that, though he didn’t want to derail the conversation just yet. “So, this is everyone’s first triangle?” The other two both made noises of assent.

“Good,” John mumbled as he palmed Thomas’ neck. It would be a bumpy ride, certainly, with nothing to guide them, but at least they were all going to be navigating it together.

“Triad,” James muttered against John’s neck. “I can’t believe we’re attempting a fucking triad.”

“Hush, you. It’ll be fine.”

“Says the queen of whistling in the dark.”

“That’s the best place to whistle, Jamiepants. And don’t catastrophize when you’re the one who wanted this so badly.”

“Actually, that was me,” John said, his voice smaller than he’d meant it to be. “I kinda made it happen because I’m an impetuous asshole and don’t always think ahead to the consequences of my actions.”

“Fucking Sagittarius,” Thomas said with a fond smile.

“And the consequences in this case?” James’ voice held a smile as well, thankfully.

John managed to take a deep breath before answering. “Long term? Prolly disastrous. But as of right now, I’ve gotten more than I could ever have wished for.”


	14. Saturday, March 3rd

“This is absurd.”

“Don’t care,” John insisted.

“Why would this ever work?” James complained.

“It’s clearly working extremely well.” John gestured to the crowd of people waiting around.

It was currently 11:37am on a Saturday, and the queer community was out in force because Max had decided that bar brunch was a thing she was willing to attempt, and today was opening day.

And when Max hosted an event, you showed up or you missed out.

Thomas was now two thirds of the way through his first cup of coffee — a latte he’d bought from the cafe down the street before they’d gotten in line — and was finally becoming verbal. “The metric for whether it will have worked will be revealed this time next Saturday. If people come back...”

“It’s bar brunch. How good can it be?” James groused. Clearly he needed coffee, or a Bloody Mary.

“There are two kinds of successful brunch,” Thomas posited in a supremely nonchalant way. “One is the highly functional kind, where you go to feel fancy, to enjoy the atmosphere and the flavors and the company — very Distinguished Gay. The other is the not-fully-functional kind, where you go to both bemoan and repair the damage from how much you drank the night before — so Disaster Bisexual it hurts.”

John giggled at Thomas’ wit. “Hey! I resemble that remark!”

“So does Max’s, I feel,” Thomas retorted.

“Disaster Bisexual Brunch is where it’s at, love.” John was emphatic in his support of his friends.

James rolled his eyes, but fondly. He had pretensions of being a Distinguished Gay.

Little did he know that John loved him so dearly because he was a secret disaster.

Max caught John's eye and waved them over to a table near the stage. He tugged at his babes then followed her through the crowd with them trailing after.

“Thanks, Max. I guess we hit the rush, huh?”

“It has been this way since ten in the AM. We weren’t quite ready to open that early, but...” She gestured around the busy room, at all the merrily brunching tables.

She looked happy to be feeding people, even at such an early hour of the morning. John had legit thought that she’d never woken up before noon in her life, but here she was.

The whole thing was so wholesome it gave him whiplash.

Thomas said, “We’re glad to be here, Max.”

“I’m glad you three came,” Max said to Thomas, with a nod to James. “It is good to see that you are still triangling. But... _Henri_?”

“ _Va bien._ Sends his regards.”

“I am very glad to hear it. He is a special one, that _Monsieur_ Gates.”

“I know it. I’ll bring him next week. _Je vous promets._ ”

“Do. With two you can sit at the bar and keep me company.”

“He’d like that.”

 _“Bon. C'est un rendez-vous._ I will be expecting you.” She waved a server over as she added, “I will be delighted to have the three of you again as well, _mes amis_. Please do not think I play favorites with regard to the lovers of _Capitaine_ Flint. All of you have handled things better than expected, and I am favorably impressed.”

She grimaced in a way that showed grudging support and sympathy for their cause. Without waiting for a response from any of them, she blew kisses to each of them and took her leave. John couldn’t help watching her make her way through the crowded room, stopping to speak to nearly every table she passed.

The server strolled up, saying, “What can I get you to drink, friends? Coffee? Or something stronger?”

“Since when did _you_ start working here?” John squawked, raising his eyebrows high.

“Since 10am, when the crowds nearly broke down the door,” Jack replied with a smirk. He was dressed in a frilly apron, which somehow did _not_ look ridiculous on him. “Take a wild guess who’s in the kitchen.”

“I’m afraid to,” Thomas said with a smile.

“I’ll bet twenty dollars it’s Anne Bonny,” James said, his hand smacking the table in emphasis.

“No bet,” John said. “Of course that’s who it is. Where else would they get to wield their knives so freely?”

Thomas’ eyes were wide. “Knives, plural? I only ever thought they carried one at a time. Anything more feels unsafe.”

“Anne believes the more knives you have in reach, the safer you are. Which would mean the kitchen is an impenetrable fortress.” Jack furrowed his brow but managed to keep a smile on his lips. “Anyway, drinks? Coffee or Bloody Marys?”

“Both for me, please,” John replied, wiggling contentedly in seat.

“Me too,” James added with a nod.

“Mimosa for me. And can you do espresso drinks?”

“Absolutely, but to be completely transparent about Max’s barista skills, no matter what you order, it’ll be a _café crème._ ”

Thomas looked to James, who murmured, “A french cappuccino.”

“Ah. That’ll do.”

“Coming right up! And may I say that though the natural order of things feels, ah, skewed somewhat with the two of you effectively off the market,” Jack wiggled his fingers in Thomas’ and James’ directions, “I _am_ glad despair week never made an appearance. No tears in sight.”

“Despair week?” John frowned at Thomas, who looked bemused, then James, who was scowling. Instead of explaining, however, James just shook his head.

“I feel obliged to apologize for my pessimistic — nay, downright uncharitable — prognosis of the situation. But, in my defense, I’ve never seen a _situation_ resolve the way yours has.”

James seemed to be... yes, he was actually growling, and Jack took a cautious step away from him, towards John, before continuing. “Yes, yes. I’m sorry. I should have had more faith in all three of you, honestly, my friends, as such... And I hope that you will forgive me in due time.”

“How much criticizing of our choices did you do at the time, though?” James’ voice was harder than John would have expected.

“Oh, quite a lot, but only to Max and Anne. And of course, you...” Jack pursed his lips primly. “But not to all and sundry, what _do_ you take me for?”

Just as James opened his mouth to respond, Thomas interrupted. “We don’t, actually. Take you for anything. Bad, I mean.”

John looked back and forth between his lovers and his friend, uncomprehending. Thomas subtly raised his eyebrows back, as if implying that was the best state for John to be in.

James wouldn’t look away from Jack. “Good man. Keep it up. And give Anne a kiss from me, won’t you?”

Jack bristled at James’ request and the subtle wink that accompanied it. “They wouldn’t want that, James, for God’s sake, they barely let _me_ kiss them and I—”

“You’re together!” Thomas nearly squealed.

“No, no. I have it,” John waved his hands excitedly at his lovers. “Jack’s got a _situation,_ but it’s not mutual and he’s suffering.”

“I’ll have you know, it _would_ be mutual if they liked fucking people,” Jack hissed dramatically at them. “It’s just that they don’t, so we’re thinking of other ways to... satisfy certain desires.”

“Does Anne Bonny... _cuddle_?” Thomas looked truly perplexed at his question.

“In their own way...” Jack mused. After a long moment wherein John and his babes exchanged doubtful glances, Jack snapped out of it, looking around as if having forgotten where he was. “At any rate. Drinks. I’ll put your orders in. And please, my dears... under your hats?”

John nodded agreement, Thomas hummed compliance, and James shrugged, indifferent.

“God bless you, every one,” Jack murmured as he headed to the bar to speak to Max.

As soon as he was out of earshot, John stage whispered, “What, pray tell, was that about?”

“Nothing,” James muttered.

“I believe we just witnessed our two biggest doubters retracting their objections to this union,” Thomas hypothesized, highly amused. “In case anyone cared.”

“Not in the least,” James scoffed.

“Actually, I _am_ glad to know my friends don’t think I’m making a horrible mistake. Because it means they’ve taken the time to notice how fucking perfect you both are for me.”

James flushed pink, high on his cheekbones, and Thomas looked immensely fond.

John couldn’t help continuing. “ _And_ it means I have receptive people to gush to about how sweet both of you are to me.”

“Please don’t bore Max with details about our love life,” James protested.

“Or give Jackie gossip fodder, for God’s sake,” Thomas added, mildly horrified.

“Oh no, nothing like that.” John grinned, amused. “The entire purpose of sharing anything will be to make them envious of my good fortune, so examples of your perfection will be picked accordingly.”

“Was he always this much of a schemer?” James asked Thomas.

“How the fuck do you think he got the three of us together, Jamesie, darling?”

James shook his head as both of his lovers chuckled. Then he primly unfolded his napkin and spread it over his lap, saying, “With wicked charm, a fuckton of luck, and breathtakingly skillful use of his plethora of dicks.”

Both Thomas and John promptly fell over laughing. James just blinked at them a moment, then joined in. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers:
> 
> 1) Yes I know T. Swift's song didn't drop in February. In fact, this fic used to be named "Don't Say I Didn't Warn Ya" because the final drag number was going to be to Blank Space, but then ME came out and felt super fucking queer to me, so I had to rework the story for that song. Totes worth it.
> 
> 2) All of Max's French is from either Google Translate or sites like, "top 20 endearments in French that you should be using" or whatever, sooooo apologies. 
> 
> 3) The pic of the trans man's chest scars is from [This Article](https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-5500565/Transgender-man-campaign-PERIODS.html) and was a shot taken for widespread consumption. 
> 
> 4) This fucker is so long I honestly have no idea if I edited it at all well so again apologies for any errors or discrepancies. 
> 
> And finally, 5) Thank you so so much for reading this fic! Olincino and I are so happy to share it with you! Come say hi on Tumblr! <3


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